Featured Writer for November

SP Reis reached out to me just this past week and after I reviewed her profile on Medium, it was a no-brainer to add her to A Cornered Gurl. She is direct, concise, poignant, and rhythmic in her delivery. Her debut poem has all of this and more. You’ll see why I did not hesitate to add her to our community as a contributor. Opening, her first contribution to us, is below.


POETRY

Opening

How to speak of sexuality

Every beginning
comes from an opening.
The bravery to
trust in creativity and,
give love
sacredly.

If Moses parted the Red Sea,
then the watery space in between
found home in the
opening of women
from which life gives
and receives
freely.

If the earth was born of explosion,
then it was born from conspiracy
by chemicals to dive
at a chance encounter
with an opening of
trust.

So if you talk to me
about sexual wanting
do not speak
without the words
open,
sacred, 
trusting and 
free.




Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

She Could Never Be My Superhero

A Free Verse Poem

I’d been laying my problems at her feet
only upon her request and even then,
I’d been careful — didn’t reveal too much,
didn’t let her tap-dance her way into 
the depths of me. 
I know what to say and when and how to 
say it in order to fill the mind with
the info it needs to keep it 
yearning for more.

A tablespoon here, a teaspoon there, 
she feasted on parts of me no one else
could ever fetch and since she was willing
to swim in the deep end, I showed her what
those waters had in them.
You find out how sincere a person is
when you shed some skin in their presence.
You learn just how devoted
they are when shit hits the fan.

Not everyone is built to carry your
burdens — not everyone is made to 
honor your suffering. 
You are your own warrior and your
battles are yours and yours alone.
The war created for you is meant for
you to fight, so when someone says
they can go to war for you, make sure
they have enough ammunition.

The back and forth of growing into
a new age in life can be exhausting.
40 isn’t 30 and 30 wasn’t 20, and
you find yourself looking back on those
times trying to pull any memories 
catered to your current hell, 
but none of them seem quite as
close to your now.

So, what can you do when that
friend still wants the deepest parts
of you even when you’ve tried
your best to be careful?
You step back, take a bigger view of
your surroundings, then make sure
your perception of you doesn’t 
overshadow what they truly see.

Then, you tell them, “I’m not looking
for anyone to save me. I’m looking
for someone to stand by me when
I need them, Nothing more. Nothing less.”

And if they stick around — if they still
want to stick around after that, a superhero
you do not have — you have love . . . 
the kind of love that lends itself
in the midst of broken hearts and
shattered dreams, and a botched election,
and a big ass baby’d man who’d cry if
his way isn’t the only way . . .

What you have is someone you
can depend on — someone loyal enough
to keep spoonfeeding bits
of you to.


Originally published in Intimately Intricate via Medium.

lady in white

Sometimes, a piece of poetry hits you ever so subtly right in the gut. Devika Mathur’s words do that often. Please visit the original poem to like and comment as well.

I know of a lady in whitewith a mouth full of promises,spreading a nocturnal path of flowers,like a longed kiss above the eye,a lady that slips in my chest,within the small rim of my fist,a sniff so wild, a mouth that dwells on mountains moist.a lady with a potato peel,with cardigans and wool on […]

lady in white