This one I think is meant to be performed. When I wrote it, it sounded like a monologue. Someone telling whoever would listen how she fucked up her plants.
Written when trying to challenge myself to identify who I am for a poetic bio. #Fail
This is a “Weekly Spotlight” feature piece I’m watching my motherFrom my lowStoop/ a substantial womanIn body and mindGliding throughThe clutteredSpace of our roomAround my grandmother’s yellow arm chair,A hamper stuffed with clothesAnd both our desksLittered with papers—stories she wasTeaching me to write inA voice she was urging meTo use/Things she couldn’t learn me byContinue reading “Lessons”