Previously Submitted

A few poems that didn’t make the cut

Photo by Imani Bahati on Unsplash

The Weird Games Children Play

The kids play Marco Polo
without a pool
Their little hands flail wildly
in the October sun
No one is IT
Everyone chases the sound
of voices unsure
of what they’re trying to find

The Delivery Guy Is Dyslexic

243 is 234 to a keen set of eyes
buried in the head of an
amazing human being yet
try as I might
I can’t be in two places
at one time

However, he doesn’t know this
My food sits in front
of a neighbor’s door waiting
for me to retrieve it
I send a message through the
app explaining the dilemma

The digital approval of
a refund chimes in
I really just want to eat
what I ordered
without the hassle
|but I’m also empathetic to
the plight of one’s struggle
I’ll order again tomorrow

The Dog Does Not Approve of the New Arrangement

I was feeling frisky the other night
so I decided to rearrange the
living room furniture
Afterward, I cleaned and
noticed the dog focused on this
new maze inside her home

She does not approve

I nod satisfied with what I’d
accomplished and my little
friend huffs in disgust
She sniffs the furniture for clues
of sameness — I explain
everything is still here

She tilts her head up to
look in my direction and I can’t
help but feel as though I’m
being graded on my performance

I did not pass her test

This Is Not Bravery

I don’t think it brave to
exist in skin the color
of spilled lies and wake up
to a face that never changes

I didn’t ask to bleed the same
blood yet I do
and authorities Other me before
I can utter a word

It is not bravery knowing I
can die for making a sharp
right turn without a signal
in a car registered in my name
with all the updated paperwork

One false move and I
could be hashtagged

The type of privilege that offers
safety is what I envision
for everyone but centuries of
racism begs to have its
face at the ball of life
No one’s dancing . . .
we’re all too afraid to move

All poems were written in October 2021.

Originally published in CRY Magazine via Medium.

NaPoWriMo #22

never been us

four years later, I
see your face
snap its way back
into my mind, and I
am stunted by its
presence–unmovable, and
lost in the shambles of the
lake of us, and I want
to blink my eyes constantly
until I can’t see you anymore.

you didn’t even have
the heart to follow
through with every promise
promised or every word
unkept; I knew in the
second year I’d be your
doormat, and after the
sixth year, I pulled myself
up, dusted myself off, and
shot my way into a
more inviting direction.

you came back …
unable to let me live
my life without you
in it, and I saw that dimpled
cheek smile at me, and
the person I was while you
were away caved in.

I hate you for loving me
hard enough to cause me
to fear everyone else.
I love you for finally letting
me walk away and stay
away for good.
I warned you that we’d be
too much to handle, and now
you see that


It Should Be a Crime …

to Swindle Consumers Like This …

Do you notice the difference in size? And guess what?! I still paid the same price for the smaller one vs. the container I purchased 3 weeks ago. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
And they wonder why poverty levels are increasing. People are literally struggling to buy the things THEY ACTUALLY NEED. *Sighs* Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

And this is how capitalism works, beautiful people. It’ll just keep getting worse until we’re all run down and tired of contributing to society.

It’s a shame that everything I’m used to getting as necessities are decreasing in size yet remaining the same price. I would protest and boycott if these were things I randomly wanted, but these are things I need!

I’m going to begin researching how to make my own laundry detergent, among other things. It’s time. It’s probably well past time.

This has seriously pissed me off. But, I digress. My birthday will NOT be extremely dampened by this. It is a temporary pissing off. *Sighs*