I didn’t have a sandwich for lunch. I had ramen. I made your sandwich and then made ramen for myself because I didn’t want to use the rest of the bread on a sandwich for me. You hate it when I use the rest of the bread. You hate it when I use the rest of the bread, even though you rarely eat it. You just like knowing that the bread is there as an option.
Brooklyn Center, a suburb
of Minneapolis. Minneapolis,
not a bridge
but a city of sighs.
the boy wanted to want // the girl coveted his cocoon //
how he morphed into anything // she had a hunger for
any word that she could chew through // right there //
When I squirm over the mattress
the overhead lighting like an unforgiving
God, I tell myself, Sleep
on your side so you don’t choke on your own
puke.
When the woman with the revolver tattoo approached, he cawed at the sparrows scattered among the dirt. They took to the sky and spread like ashes blown by the wind. The woman watched as they flew higher and higher toward the Moon.
A memory: A fire in a pit crackles away the last drops of water trapped in kindling gathered after an evening storm. If I get too close I may crackle too. My skin is sticky with incense so pungent I can taste it. I write by the moon. My words are fireflies. Orion keeps me safe.
Go ahead, lower the lid—
pin darkness on top of me,
its breath hot on my face—
an unlit cigarette on my lips
for what comes after.
but I get to decide where this poem goes
how it moves, what it makes
it goes to where we met in the contra line
you grinned when I asked if you like flourishes
His feelings had never been trampled
along the way - until he confessed to me
that they had. It was a secret only for me.
He gets up, walks with purpose towards the abomination, and swings his right hand at the hapless meerkat, which catches the head of the lion, and brings the whole thing crashing down. The first thought that comes into Lolo’s mind is triumphant, “This is what 2-yr old boys do!” – he hugs Pepe tightly.
You’ve nowhere to
go but the store, nothing to share except
stories of when we wove tales, went places,
the world an oyster left on the counter
to rot.
I had to write my thesis. I also, had to negotiate Advait and his new paramour, Shivani, a light eyed girl from Delhi, where he was also from, revelling in their new romance, in the same hostel. They spoke in tongues I didn’t understand. I lived on the 9th floor. Advait was on the 11th floor. Shivani was on the 7th floor. “You’re in purgatory,” Tanvi would tease, but no matter the support she’d offered, a darkness had started taking over me, like a virus slowly creeping into the flesh and subtly altering my chemistry.
my grandmother believes
in red blood flowers
each woman has at least one
many survive many do not
I had no idea what this meant
until now
Take a flashlight and put a spotlight on Louisville on a map. We can go there. Kentucky. If we’re lucky. To Cameroon. Whistle a tune. Hold the light from a place the sun should be.
To her those dirt floors
Sparkled like the Ryman
When she touched the mic
She felt like someone …
Linda’s husband Sebastian was blowing away all the money. She had been fighting with him over his gambling addiction, which had only gotten worse. At the very beginning of their marriage, Sebastian would only go once every two weeks. He’d come home and tell her how much money he won, then treat her to a new purse or a romantic dinner. Linda didn’t ask too many questions; she didn’t want to be the nagging wife.
I perused a map of a city I once knew fairly well. I was surprised at the amount of green on it.
We talked about the challenges of marriage and about dreams that had gone unfulfilled. “Will I ever be more than a mother?” I asked her. “You already are,” she answered. Katie played Tom Petty’s “I Won’t Back Down,” an inspiring song about resilience.
The map of Alaska I study is actually the state from above. I believe I can see the author I love sailing on a river. The city I stare at is Canadian. I adore her cleanliness, her bridges, her red townhouses.