• Poetry

    #MeToo

    TWENTY-SEVEN years oldWalking in the evening’s cool(Twenty-one years to go – don’t stroll through town with your boyfriend). When I was nineteen(Thirteen years and counting – don’t crouch down, don’t turn your back on politiciansHowever small-town-local,Don’t crouch down). It happened…

  • Poetry

    SEE NO EVIL

    THE DOTS We’re not counting little boxes on the hillside anymore; We’re counting dots on the borderlines, Black, brown, beige, rarely white, but sometimes, Dots. If I squeeze my eyes tight enough, they merge, bleed to one, They don’t bleed…