Ancestor Toni taught me to protect my stories and language fiercely,

to be wary of Eurocentric editing and code-switching,

to celebrate the way we speak and our intricacies.

I chose Beyoncé,

wishing to be Sasha Fierce brave

as they strapped my arms down to the table.

You bleed, I bleed—

our monthlies in sync so we

lust, overeat, bloat and PMS on beat.

Sis, your soul glow like Darryl. On God.

And how you make it look easy? It’s hard.

When the world burns, they expect us to cook.

That night, hip-hop sweet-talked me like

Cadillac driving Southern playas rockin fur coats and gators.

Hot and sticky like the South,

rap lyrics flowed from my mouth.

Imagine two intellectual Brooklyn backpacker rappers

reciting 1970 words from Queen Toni Morrison

on and 88-Keys produced beat.

Minutes after the radiologist called to inform me that

cancer made a new home in my lymph nodes,

my back yard filled with baby blue birds,

an army of angels singing

What began my obsession with growing things?

Maybe it was being a gifted kid full of curiosity.

Or growing up in a stuffy apartment too small for my dreams.

It was a regular Saturday at the dock,

the kind where folks come to unwind

and leave the troubles on their minds behind.

‘Twas the month of February in the year 2015

when my child was conceived—

two months before Freddie Gray

lost his life just 45 minutes away.

U Don’t Know

what you’re doing after school

when you’re seventeen and just seen

two planes crash into buildings

during 3rd period Geometry

Friends,

how many of us have them

times when tragedy strikes

and the homie you expect

is nowhere in sight?

Everybody loves the sunshine,

especially this baldie queen

straight outta chemotherapy

I’m learning to stop comparing

the self I am today

with the self I was yesterday.

Beauty standards are not for anyone’s protection,

nor are smiles because you’re supposed to be polite.

It is a losing strategy to be polite.

One day when I was walking,

walking to the fair,

I ran into some trauma,

almost took me out of here.

Zzzzzz zzzzzz buzzing,

the 1 am “Hey big head” texts from tempting ex-boyfriends threatening abstinence.

“It takes consistency to be with me,” they say,

then pray the Rose of Sharon won’t mind

And frankly, I’m tired

of being “hard as hell” like LL,

would hate to get shot like 2Pac,

and I’m way too private

to yap about my WAP.

It’s lonely as hell here.

Words don’t just

up and abandon you

the way people do.