Don’t Tempt the Stars

Somewhere, in a patch of lush green,
I throw a piercing, silver 
dart into darkness’ depth, and it
perforates the heart of a grain of 
sugar. 

I watch as its pupils
dilate, a blue-white haze, 
and its mouth
forms the silhouette of a
smile. Falling, landing upon the 
green lush, grinding what was into 
what will be, right before my feet. 

In rebellion, its family crashed
onto the wasteland and like an 
innocent child, I opened my mouth.
The flecks dissolved on my immature
tongue until I sunk to join my
brothers and sisters who were once
lush and green.

Yearning for Hysterical Amnesia

I stood on a road, riddled with
potholes and neglect, my hands
raised towards the heavens. A fist to

fight or open palms to surrender. I don’t recall
which. I look in the eye of man’s best friend
and in the darkness an aged silhouette with 

weathered hands and long locs, my
mother. I move closer; she sits facing the 
scarlet horizon. Thunderclouds bleed out

theatrically in the sky. She turns to me, and I 
see her eyes, a small-scale sky. With flaky 
skin and a burdened back, she opens her

mouth to speak, but it’s the halt of a train - a 
screeching sound. I’m on the tracks of a train.  
I see the train pass after running over me but

darkness. This time I see myself in a barren desert, 
a shadow cast before me, lengthened by 
the sun. I know it’s my father, but I can’t see his face again. 

A ball of dazzling light, I am gone. 
Goodbye body. I feel my all-encompassing 
heat, and I wonder if you felt it too. 

I reach in my body for
my insecurities, and I find nothing. I’m at
peace. I stare at myself, willing to stay, 

but, darkness. The darkness stayed this
time. I couldn’t see, blinded
by a dazzling sight. 

Ten Paces

Condemned to death at first
Sight of a blue and red crown, 
Bestowed by a condemned soul
With grim humor. Burly hands
Like white lilies pull me from
My sanctuary. “A duel,” the
Officer commanded. I was black
Which meant I was armed. I bore
The weight of my ten paces, feeling
The enormity of my fate. My feet
Dragging on asphalt, reflecting 
Empathetic streetlights. Rocks following
Me to my fate. Ten paces came so fast
A lifetime behind me. A pistol staring at me,
In the eye of the cop’s manhood, a
Utopia: black boys and girls
Sprinting, flying, crawling, 
I’m burning. I sink to the dust
Rising on the other side in
A field of boys and girls. 

Perpetual Imprisonment

Porcelain plate shattering
on the crisp, assorted, granite tiles. 
Oak wood door painted 
the color of the sound of eyes 
closing in the clamor of the light. 

Ripples in the ceiling sound 
the feel of my chest
to the sound of darkness; 
its arms reach
around the blinds. 

It couldn't wait — 
blinds couldn’t protect my eyes
from the blinding
of truth, held 
in the walls. I was still —

breath held there. The sun spotted me
as it turned, converse with the
moon. And I was still. 
Somewhere under the plaster,
I was still.