I definitely DID NOT expect this, but I am honored and humbled by the fact that my submission of lady in purple (at 05:10 AM) is the winning poem for June. Many thanks to Melissa Lemay and the judge, Lesley Scoble as well. I am including the audio for the poem in this post, and I will also share a snippet of the poem with you here.
If you’d like to see the poem in all its glory and structure, please visit Collaborature, which is where it is hosted. I appreciate your time, mind, and eyes, and I hope Tuesday is more than kind to each of you.
I feel her crying soul letting go — we’re breaking free from the chains we formed around us.
breathing is like fighting under water — struggling to pull against every push. I tell her “I am here” when her mind strangles her. I am ready to save her from the darkness.
my friend says to me, “I could never say no to something like this… the way you poured your heart out, Tre. the way you wear your heart on your sleeve. if I were her, it’d be a “Yes.”
and I don’t think people get the crux of us — the history. we have been sacred for years; subordinate to manager, there were just some roads we couldn’t cross, and now that we have this cross to bear, it’s more jigsawed than ever before.
still… I feel her crying soul letting go — we’re breaking free from the chains we formed around us. we were made to move.
Author’s Note: This piece began as a bit of micropoetry I shared as a note on my Substack. I wanted to play around with it and see what else I could produce. The photo above of me helped with this process. The thoughts bouncing about in my mind needed formulating — they needed a home. I think I have found one for them.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with my place of employment as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.
a gift to myself, but not really from myself – courtesy of the crush . . . birthday gift cards hit different, especially when you can buy all the things you’ve been eyeing and not with your own money.
as I listened to my decaffeinated coffee percolate and watched it trickle down into my new favorite mug, I wondered if it would taste better.
and, it did.
there is something orgasmic about sipping caramelized cocoa goodness with a hint of butter cream and savory mocha that sends my heart aflutter.
who knew an after-work hot beverage would boost low morale? I’ve needed this form of pick-me-up. it’s hitting all the right spots as I wait for the woman with my heart to return home safely.
she has captured it, you see . . . my heart, that is. and until I lock eyes with it again, I am a lowly soul tethered to her whims.
reminiscence begs for attention, and I find myself recalling a scene from The Golden Girls– Dorothy mentions to Blanche the irony of looking at oneself in the mirror while lying down – you’re not the same.
I know when I look at this new mug from this moment forward, a flicker of memories will flood my brain, and I will remember how it came to be a centerpiece in my cupboard.
and I, too, will never be the same.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-BookandPaperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak aboutthe most recent events with my place of employment as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.
Victoria’s Poem. Created with Canva. Photo used: Marcus (my younger cousin, Victoria’s brother), Me, and Victoria so many MOONS ago, but it is my favorite photo of us.
how can we turn back time to days of old–when smiles lifted from our lips and covered our entire faces?
you were a ball of energy– an amazing ray of sunshine that splashed the earth with joy and permanence.
I have counted the years up in my head and in my heart, and the more they pile up, the calmer I become.
you are showing the world what it means to grow in light . . . to press forward when times have a foot lodged into your ribs.
I will never know the weight of your shoes but I know mine have been heavy and kicking them off as soon as I come home is a top priority.
Through cracked lenses, broken hearts, failed relationships, and inevitable demises, you conquer every storm. God bless your resilience. It is to be envied.
like Nas’ “It Ain’t Hard To Tell“, when we spot each other in a room full of our workmates, we fight to get to that hug we’ve been missing–that embrace that saddles us with contentment.
we fight for the purity of touch.
I know you. you know me. we broke down walls to be able to say, “She’s whole without being halved.” we have the drop on one another but we’ll never use it.
I am counting down the days until I see you again. until I get to hear that Flint, Michigan accent with a sprinkle of the Deep South swirling on your tongue.
maybe it’ll be the right time to say, “Yes” to what we’ve had to say “No” to for so long.
or maybe I’m just living through my fantasies again–envisioning you as the key to my heart’s happiness. or maybe, we’re treading lightly because the heavy waves are getting heavier and we need these damn jobs.
we’ve been cautious for years.
and there’s no cat and mouse with us–we’re simply plagued by curiosity and frozen from impending corporate damage.
how long will we be able to hold up our end of the bargain before we have to surrender?
are we willing to battle in the wars of political correctness for the honor of true love?
am I?
*Background music: It Ain’t Hard Tell instrumental, produced by The Large Professor
A Cornered Gurl 
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