For The One I Cannot Know

I will save a slither of humanity
for you, my cards held tightly
in my hand.
Do you have any hearts, my love?
I wonder at the gates of your
quivering lips, yearn to know
of the overwhelming tides that
broach upon your waters.
How can I buoy you?

This corybantic life has no end,
we race for a place in this world,
yet our souls have already
outlived the past.
You say that the mystics
won’t allow you to love,
your heart is trapped in
a closet, confined to darkness.
How then will I bring you
to light?

I have given you life in
the oddest of places,
conjured up beauty indescribable
and attached it to your eyes.
To those who don’t know you,
they know you through me.
This isn’t enough, though.
You slit your wrists, cleverly
avoiding consequences like
you’re famous for doing and I
swallow every condolence,
aching from your premature exit.

Oh love, where can I go
to be free of you, the you
I cannot know?
The fox in the woods
hunts for prey.
The bear hibernates, full
from months of gluttony.
The raven caws at dawn.
And I . . .
I burrow myself
in a time that can never
reveal who we are.

The saga always
continues.

The Damage is in the Eyes

Olayinka Babalola via Unsplash

He walks past her,
driven by alcoholic
motivation instead of her smile.
Their home is a soundless cave,
cracking in every corner.
She carries on,
her fingers tire of their daily
actions in the kitchen, in the bedroom.

The only thing keeping
her there is the new lease
on life she thought she’d have
with him.
The damage is in her eyes
but he cannot see it.

She struggles to make a life
work for them, she hasn’t given up.
It’s hard when you look
at someone you’ve loved for
decades and they turn into
someone you do not know.

She puts the kettle on the
stove for tea,
the hissing sound that follows
two minutes later wakes her
from a daydream.

She’s got to get out
of this Hell.

Tallulah

her penny tongue
don’t cost a thing,
she’s used to discounting
the boys in blue, black, or green.
Tallulah is a tower,
her arms hang at her sides,
slumped like bags of cotton candy
at the county fair.

I put in my two cents
when she asks “why can’t we
just build a wall?” and watch her
face turn into pruned bits.
her bitter lips smack
and screw themselves up
into a forgotten army.
she’s marching ahead
but no one’s stupid enough to
follow a one-track mind.

there are starving children
across the globe,
bellies plump from gas,
little knees buckle from
reflex taps, but Tallulah
wants to shut off the water supply.
she says, “they have rivers.
let them siphon water from
the dirt on which they walk.”
I have to steady my right hand,
it itches to slap her,
but I ain’t never been
cramped up in a jail cell
and I don’t wanna be.

Tallulah sits on her high horse
pressing the curls of her
inflated head.
the townspeople await her
signal to celebrate a year
without plagues, but Tallulah
ignores them.
one by one they die,
her authority cripples right
before her eyes.

Tallulah could’ve changed
the world.
she could’ve changed her ways.
But Tallulah was a
damn fool.

Young Minds of Medium Featured Writer: Nour

Nour is an exceptional young one whom I have had the pleasure of watching grow on Medium. Over the last eight months, this young one has broken out of her shell and is sharing her life and experiences with us.

She answered the Young Minds of Medium “How Do You Sing The Blues” challenge for A Cornered Gurl with the following prose-poem:


Just keep breathin’

Young Minds of Medium “Blues Call”

Hasty outlets of yours truly over the years.

Tainted blue creeps in,
An armed looming shadow that threatens,
Look fiercely into its eyes, impassive
Let the ink embrace your heart, squeeze the venom out on paper,
Chase down freedom with your words.


It’s disarming.

How the story unfolds sometimes. So many lies embedded in between the lines and I foolishly believe. Destruction calling my bones for release of its pent up anger. Seeping its sorrow on my pages, adding lines. And my brain does nothing but smirk in approval, unwinding me to the core. Now all the chaos — thrown at my feet, no sealing to its mouth that keeps running.

I keep falling down.

Entirety is disarming sometimes.
Disapproval clawing its way in my mind,

Smitten by blues, add more salt to her wounds … if only you’ve done this. If only you were this …

Just stop. Press pause, go on rewind your tape and you’ll see where it starts:

All. In. Your. Fucking. Head.

I hold still for a moment. Let the truth sink in. So many inviting claws I struggle to dodge.

Oh, how it’s easier to fall into depression … but will you let in temptation?

And that’s how it starts. I breathe my screams out on paper, rewrite the story …

I change lines.

The claws are no longer inviting. ‘Cause no hunter falls for their prey.
The lies fade back to their dimension, this territory ain’t going to be stained.

I don’t pause. I keep going. Destruction no longer smirks.
Entirety could be disarming … unless between the lines you checked again.


Originally published via A Cornered Gurl on Medium.

“Watchmen”

 

if I were ten years older,
would you come for me
like Sister Night chasing
Cal into a tiny closet?

would you watch and wait
with bated breath–your fingers
itching to tug at me in places
where darkness falls?

I thought I could woo you
with sweet words and
draw you to me gently before
first light of a naked morning,

but I was wrong.

you still cling to a masked lover
who’s afraid to reveal her
true self to you.

and I am done
charging down the streets
of hell, chasing after criminals
of love–empty from fighting
bad guys.


Watchmen is one of my favorite series on HBO. It inspired this piece.