March 15, 2018

Stop Victim Blaming

I’m sure there are nothing but good intentions behind the “walk up not out” idea that has been spreading like the flu, but it’s actually super dangerous and silencing. It’s just like telling women not to wear certain clothes so as not to “provoke” rape. “Oh, you’re afraid you might get raped? You shouldn’t wear that.” “Oh, you’re afraid your school might get shot up? You should have been nicer.” It’s victim blaming, both cases. Yes, of course we should practice kindness every day, just as yes, it’s probably a good idea not to wear a bikini alone through the city, but we are trying to stop the root of these problems, so we can wear what we want, so we can feel safe in school. This is arguably even more dangerous than telling women how to dress, because it’s not just affecting self esteem and individuality, but it’s potentially pushing students into a dangerous situation, where they may be forced to approach the student who IS planning something, and now they just got in their way. If a student is planning murder, a kind moment is not going to stop them. You may not want anyone infringing on your gun rights (which so far, no one has!) but that doesn’t mean you can infringe on our right to protest. ✊

August 04, 2017

Warrior Women

To the women who carry bodies
in bodies, who change shape

around an idea or a child
or a song they haven't yet heard,

you are the truest warriors.
You hold war beneath your ribs

and beat your heart against it.
You have two mouths

but only scream from one
while the other screams at you.

You aren't afraid to be teeth and tongues
and all the spaces between breaths.

You fill the room with you
and let yourself be forgotten

so the room has room to think
those heartbeats belong to it.

July 13, 2017

White Noise


I'm always screaming,
even when I'm not. 
Too loud.
Even for myself.
Ever since you left.
It's consistent—
like the hum of a vacuum,
or a lawn-mower,
or an old a/c window unit.
It's not like a child coughing
or a neighbor's incessantly barking dog.
It's the kind of scream that says nothing—
not your name
or the spaces between it.
Just noise.
Loud.
Even when my mouth is closed.
Like it's coming from somewhere else,
coming from me.
If you came back, 
would it stop?
Or would it deafen the world?

July 06, 2017

time is subjective

This morning I crossed the wrong day off the calendar. I didn't mean it. Sometimes my hands create their own habits, like pushing pens against paper, or holding middle fingers up, or brushing against soft objects, or pressing cigarettes to lips. Today is not finished like my calendar thinks. (Does time have a mind?) Today my hands began thinking it's tomorrow.

April 09, 2017

lullaby


Only you would know the meaning
of this song. And you, that one.
Each you has a different 
rhythm
cadence
beat.

You and me 
songs everywhere.

March 14, 2017

The Moon is Pulling

You’re not supposed to be
my rock and
I’m not supposed to be
yours.

We’re porous.
We float.
We move with
the currents,
the way of the water.

We're caught in the same
wave.

What happens when we crash
into the shore?

February 03, 2017

The End of the Rainbow

Clementine.
I kissed you.
Scarlet.
Too big for my skin to hold.
Violet.
I didn’t fall.
Indigo.
 I grew.

January 30, 2017

Hurricanes

I come from a place where the ocean rises
to meet me at my doorstep.
I remember wondering,
as a child, why I wasn't allowed
to jump in. I've never been afraid
of being submerged in dark
waters. I like living in
spaces where my feet can't touch
the ground. I like being carried
by a current outside
myself.

I think maybe
I used to be a fish.
Do fish enjoy the weather? 
I think maybe
I still am.

January 03, 2017

It was her.

It started with her face
or a version of it, snapped
in a moment I wasn’t yet present,
but I was, in my moment,
present, presently seeing
her face, juxtaposed with a poem.
That’s how I knew
it was her.