Two poems written on Substack notes
the carelessness of the few
if millions of breathing beings
proscribed evildoers and those greedy
enough to shake down the poor and
oppressed, we wouldn’t be dancing
in a pit of flames, trying our best to
outrun the burn.
but here we are…
walking on lit coal, struggling to stay
sane, and clapping away fire that aligns
itself with our truths.
we had the tools to succeed politically,
however, many were afraid to see how
well they worked.
and now, we’re all
drowning in this
inescapable Hell.
a griseous morning
morning isn’t sashaying over to
me as it’s done the
past few days.
it appears sullen,
griseous, and
downtrodden.
I don’t have the
words to heal the ache it feels, but
I offer a few anyway.
it wanders around my home,
anxious to see which one of us
will break first.
I’ve got news for it…
it won’t be me.
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 Cornered Gurl 
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