March 15th, 2014 § 0 comments

your space in me is like the beet

in de groun. I feel it hard and

round, wit a sweet, sweet sugasink,

sobs dat stick in me throat,

like rice and bread swallowed ‘ole.


me heart is the beet dug deep

but still your sharklayered teeth are tinged

wit memories of red wine

pulling me hair cause

I ain’t rootin for your team


not forgettin you is a wind

rustlin de vines, tuggin at dere source

lay flat me throat, smooth it like

a field of wheat, witchyour hand

dat felt me so wrong

pressin me breath out

a soft chokin good morning.


I hold slices of prayer for you

before layin dem to rest on

your chair

the sink

the mattress


a trail of

your haunts


but I’m the one who follows de crumbs


I is dreamdwelling in a muggy hope

that sitting by your side won’t make

me well wit shame




that you might one day come home

and see where you bit

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