Category: poetry slam

I know you can’t break me half as hard as I deserve to be broken. Every injury just another opportunity to learn to love this body.

I have long since forgiven your lies. I have long since forgiven my body for failing, for breaking. Maybe forgiveness is transitive.

I have always been your drum kit. Even with your whole body, I don’t understand
how you make me beat so fast.

there are days i don’t want to show \ there are days i want to run \ to a place where the language does not know \ sorrow \ where the land is beautiful.

New York is for people who have something to prove, each of us howling at our own moon.

I am not a passing ballad not a bird with crescendo caught between its beak I say I am not to die at the end of this tale.

O, what great privilege: to hope for someone else’s freedom and not have to be the angry bitch to demand it.

I wish I was kin to Medusa right now, that my hair would grow heads and bite his fingers bloody.

I feel like Peter Pan some days. I know it’s impossible, but I believe even this body can fly—like every broken bone, every bruise, is a feather.

Somehow we have arrived. Apart and whole.