My mother gave me / her bluebird of happiness. Carrying the glass / inside my skin to school, I was young. / Show us what you have, the world said.

sweet leaks out the droning walls / call it a hard-knocks monastery / call it Ghandi split and shackled / call it honey  in a bitter built hive

When she opens / blinds, grabs a towel from the sink / red with tomato juice—the dark tuft of hair / hiding inside her thighs

Photo credit: Thomas Sayers Ellis

that man will call your belly / his canoe. unstrap his eyes / from yours. he ain’t / there to see you, see? / let him pull.

Photo credit: Thomas Sayers Ellis