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An ocean lives inside
me, and everybody knows it.


They see it rise and fall
down the mountains


of my cheek bones. They wonder
where all the water is stored.


Is it in the jars of my breast or
sweat on my skin? In the


curl of my hair between
my thighs or is it all


in my head? The waves slap
against my ribcage


and crack them into broken
eggshell pieces. Yet I smile


calmly, assuredly, like the sun
is on my sea. I know these murky


waters will wash afloat every man-
made plastic thrown into its depth.
Jul 8
Call Me Zami
Christiana A Jul 8
I smile at the girl
with hair like purple rain.

I admire the hoop in her nose.
The way it circles squarely,

unbroken by a confused identity.
She turns away and doesn't smile

back. I think my smile is a scowl,
carrying the many W's of wishes

buried in an unmarked body.
Unmarked by a woman.
Experimenting with the word - Bi-Curious
Jun 29 · 182
Grand Gestures
Christiana A Jun 29
Let us call it
exactly what it is.
 
 
Grand
Grandiose
Grandioso
 
 
gestures that leave me suspended
from a tray ceiling like
 
 
a glass chandelier hanging
on a string of beaded words.
 
 
It's all very
 
 
Grand
Grandiose
Grandioso
 
 
until the
string is pulled
too tight.
 
 
 
Then there will be
nothing left
but glass, beads,
 
 
and broken hearts
on a marble floor.
Jun 29 · 116
Hail Mary Pass
Christiana A Jun 29
My love for him felt displaced by time.
Like a long summer nap and waking
to find the sun freshly out in the sky.

Only that it wasn't. It was the same sun
in the sky before I slept, and the same one when I awoke at 19.58 pm.

Nothing was new. Instead all was steadfast. Lacking in the fluidity and spontaneity that gave one the ability

to see into a man's soul through the twitching of his right eye.
It felt like a black wren's feather

caught in between two branches.
The proof that although I wanted to fly, I was held back by the familiarity of a place.


So I sit on this short hill in the twilight of my life and wonder what it would feel like to fly uninhibited in the morning sun.

Like a little girl's laughter in summer. Full of crescent moon tambourines and a head covered in a wreath of dried lavender.

— The End —