fragment i
i learned to carry tenderness
like contraband.
hidden in the mouth.
under the tongue.
one more thing i could be punished for.
poetry
poetry exerpts
a glimpse into the rot.
fragment ii
there is a church in me
with no god left in it.
only mildew.
only candles burned down to their knees.
only my own name
spoken like a warning.
fragment iii
you tell me fight or flight
like i haven’t done both
with my teeth clenched
and no one coming to help.