Picturing you 

A dream 


The kind of child

I will always love

The kind of womb 

That takes its time

The kind of creation

That crinkles in the eyes 

A love supreme 

A masterpiece 


The Queen

You stand up there
tall and proud
black and proud
with your nude lace up heels,
cheetah print maxi skirt
with a slit up the side
thick leather belt that
wraps around your black
skin tight leotard
covered by a light beige duster
with big tufts of fur on the collar–
I admire your look
and I admire you even more
after you tell the large crowd you are
and then I admire you even more
as you begin to tell us about your life
how you left for four years
and came back just today
how people had run you out
when they were supposed to have
had your back
were supposed to have supported you
in your darkest, loneliest
most confusing moments
and instead, when you did not fit their
image of the “queen”
(which is what they called you
and you begged to differ)
they pretended you did not exist
and so you asked
(I ask)
what is this then
the program we call
a God-given program?
if we can’t see ourselves in each other
if we can’t remember that we are
all the same
that we all come from the same place
no matter our sexual identity, creed, religion
or lack of religion
and with that crack of your voice
the quavering of your chin
seducing one tear or more tears
out of my eyes
telling us all of your pain and suffering
I heard my story too
and his and her story
and probably everybody’s story
and I thought, well dammit
you are still the Queen
even if you are not in your eyes
but mine
and even if you weren’t or aren’t
the woman we should be bowing to
I still respect you for
being you
and sharing with me all of you
which makes me
a better person–

Missing Poems

Forgot to write a poem today
the buzzing in my veins
forbids me from sitting down
getting grounded
or letting go
So please Creator
see this feeble attempt
at expression a reminder
of my unwavering dedication to you
and that all I should do
be in reverence to you
the divine force
the heartbeat
the baby in the mother’s womb–

The robbing fingers 

You inspired me once 

Please inspire me again 

Show me how to shut the off button 

And press the on to inside

Inside my soul

Inside my mind

To a place I fail to rewind to.

Lately I’ve been having these flashes 

Of people, places and things-

They come ever so often

Popping in my mind these unwelcome guests

The fingers unwelcome guests in my four year old vagina 

Watching cartoons while my mom and uncle talked at the kitchen table

How could you not notice that something 

Wasn’t right?

That I was being taken advantage of?

To put it more clearly-

That I was being molested by a family member?

His face I can’t recall

How old he was

What was his name…?

In my mind’s eye 

I feel a larger body spooning behind me

A being that knows what he’s doing is sinister and wrong

But some unsatiated animal and its hunger takes hold of his decision to choose right instead 

Robbing me of everything I had- eveything I could ever be- in that moment

Cheating me of any purity

Any innocence 

Any sense or chance of a “normal”


And I always wonder 

As I wonder now 

how and when will any of that be rectified? 

When do I get any of that freedom or joy back?

The place my soul was before the prying fingers 

The robbing fingers 

Took it all away–

Traveling lens 

See the world through my eyes 

She said 

Or walk a mile in my shoes

The idioms all the same


For what you would find is

That my world is quite like yours 

And so is the walk 

Long and arduous 

Room for growth 

And still more room for peace 

Wishing things away so I can focus on me 

But as the divine just intuited to me 

As it probably has been for days



And probably years 

Inspiration comes from everywhere

You just have to do the damn work–

I choose love

wandering the streets of NYC
I have a plan
to not have a plan
I slowly float over tiny brown puddles
waiting for you to get out of my way
sorry that was mean
I mean, I’m letting you pass first
stuck in between a black wrought iron fence
and a tiny yellow dandelion
I choose love
I choose love–

Beach Ball

Listening to you
repeat every word I say
like it’s all new
it is new
it’s so
so very new to you
you pick up a piece and say red
it’s yellow
you pick up another piece
it’s yellow
you say yellow
the claymation on the screen
as I type this
“koo koo”
it’s Russian for
peek a boo
I didn’t understand why
until I heard you repeat it
(so much easier for babies)
and here we are
day after day
week after week
month after month
nearing the 2 year mark
and you are everything I hoped for
everything I dreamed of
more than I could have imagined
as we awaken another morning
rest unto another night
looking forward with glistening eyes
thanking the Lord
for another day here
to live in peace
and as much harmony
as my small mind
as I will allow myself to feel
on this little
blue ball