You came up rich? Tweed coats in the hall closet meant only to cover Sunday bests. Wooden beads clacking, cascading down as you walk through the kitchen door, Coconut boiling down down down to oil in a jar. So you were rich rich? Thick carnation milk spinning the colour wheel in her cup of tea.…
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“I’ve never seen that before” They’ll say. “I bought them when you were young, but no one liked them.” “ That smells amazing!” They’ll opine. “ I made them a few times when you were kids, but you scrunched up your nose.” “I’d love to try that.” They’ll announce. “ We did when you were…
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Tumbling down from the sun. Finally, Strong enough to warm the frozen earth, Frozen water. Blooming humidity. Slowing down time. Island time. The melancholy tones of Winter, Muddy Spring, Giving way to a rhythmic breeze. Kicking off heavy boots, Loosening our feet. Ting, ting-ting-ting Whine Weave Summer -C
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Melanin drip, dripping, Through my veins, Coiling it’s way through my hair, Reaching out to the sun. Tiny bursts cross my face, Pooling in my lips. Spreading across my shoulders, Making them strong. Down, down, down my spine, Dat ass, Dem thighs. Warm, golden glow, Olive tone, Pale eye. Basking in her glow. Roots. Earth.…
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‘Girl’ is not a 4-letter-word. Our daughters are not their weapon. Never let them use them against us. Our daughters are strong. They’re loud. They’re bold. Our daughters are confident. They’re smart. They’re bright. Our daughters are joyous. The way they laugh. They way they love. Our daughters inspire me. To be real. To be…
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My children are alive. I’m doing okay. Some days they even thrive. Hooray! Most days they laugh and smile. I’m succeeding in some way. They make me laugh too, every single day. Sometimes they fight, but I have some sway. Sometimes they hug, and I get my way. They’ll have rough days, that might lead them…
Read MoreMy children are alive. I’m doing okay. Some days they even thrive. Hip hip hooray! Most days they laugh and smile. I’m succeeding in some way. They make me laugh too, every single day. Sometimes they fight, but I have some sway. Sometimes they hug, and I get my way. They’ll have rough days, that…
Read MoreIn the dream I was being attacked. He kept lunging forward. Lashing out. Pounding. Pounding. I was armed with a hockey stick, my fists, my voice, but it was failing. His voice though. Not his face, that was some random face from the street or from a movie background. The voice was his. The voice that…
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Bobbles&Buttons 