If I spell my name in bruised melanin
and ink across this mud and breath
made flesh melt down these gold fillings
into an alphabet of love letters
would you recognize your reflection in me
From the collection Prayer Flag Poems. Posted by kind permission of the poet.
I grew up in a family that did not tell the story. I am listening…
a body is always a body individual or collective (whole or in many pieces) alive…
Let plain things please you again and every ordinary Monday. Bean soup in a white…
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