National Poetry Month 2021

in these states united in armor and trauma, I remember the volcanic ash in my mother’s belly

I remember milk abundant with shrapnel and protozoa, direct from her infected breast

a clinic as far away as Las Vegas, and as clean as its streets

we are documenting ourselves so that we aren’t forgotten, or so that we don’t forget what

it felt like to be alive in a place that has an abundance of everything and yet we starve for 

attention and kindnesses

we sit idly in our thrones with our paper degrees hanging above our doors

correcting people’s actions for the sake of our tuitions

we carry burdens and loans on our backs, 


scattered sighs and vapor of afterthought,


blood drips from noses and the heat catches it, 

hands cover eyes and the cold freezes it

we are quick to turn corners if nothing resides there, 

we take heed if we know that the struggle doesn’t bring despair

because we’re all stung and diluted, left to be a fraction of a mouth put on mute

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