She yells don’t come in I am kind of naked but I tell her you’re either naked or not naked and it is not like I have never seen my body before. Genetics are that ludicrous thing that make you knock before entering but a foot is already three steps in as she scrambles yellow eggs and skirts to dress her sadness before I already see.

a Monk

Holding cell phones and his cellophane palms all at once
Late again, I’m surprised we even showed up
Do I even have to answer when he tries to wrap his fingers around mine?

and when it’s over,

why not let me look past yellow arches holding Howard Street Bridge up

and my beautiful Baltimore I don’t even know

stop asking me questions of places I have given up

galleries I have never frequented and murals made of tears

let me say nothing in the trench of pain as you always do

I don’t know which I prefer
Smoking weed
Or love

Sister once stood wasting energy fridge ajar,

rolled up the J and turkey slice told me it all goes to the same place

Who cares?

so fry, boil or bake me

into the past



But it was HE 

i could not peal out of the crevice of my mind. 

it was his skin, 

i liked on mine. 

it was our past, 

i tried to relive. 

it was memory, 

i craved to erase, 

could not erase.