Poetry, February 2021.

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I was born in hell, and I demand respect,

cut from the cloth of infidels

And women who wanted better for themselves.

I am a siren who can’t be silenced

By candle wax, try to stuff your ears and

You will hear me in your dreams

Because music and its makers

never really sleep.

I am bigger than a body with any

Expiration date, I refuse to sweat

The things I know I cannot take with me

Everything that’s tangible,

Corporeal,

Menial,

And treated with twice daily Buspirone.

Instead my hands are slotted spoons

Cradling what matters,

Letting that other shit slip away.

But tell me what you see

when you look at the stars

Because I see a billion reminders

Of how small I can be

And the permission of my elders

To be insignificant every once in a while.

If we are all stardust, then let me make it clear

I am here and I will glitter

In every nook and cranny of the

lives that let me in.