statistically speaking

I’ll never,
it’s unlikely I will.

according to statistics,
The numbers don’t lie,
I’m just not the one.
so, who am i?
…statistically speaking.

insignificant
an outsider outlier

I failed
Stats,
so I probably
don’t know-

my probability
is it low?
the odds
stacked against,
but
the data still doesn’t show
what does it
know?

the numbers,
statistically speaking,
don’t dictate
for me
how far
I can
go.

Today

Today
a body ruled
over mine
what I’ve always known

my brown skin
is a guilty verdict
my beauty, my love, my life,
a crime

what about my laughter?
my writings-
my secrets
and desires
all
evidence
against me

my life is unearned
my peace is mis-placed
my achievements and hopes
borrowed and deferred

my voice
is a threat,
my existence –
criminal

how can a single body
outlaw
hundreds of thousands of bodies
criminalize
our hands, our hearts, our gifts?

what’s so guilty
guilt ridden
about my body

shouldn’t the body be
refuge
where we find
humanity
outstretched arms
for the tired, weary
huddled

there is only white
and brown
right and wrong
innocent
and shades of suspicion

They want us to answer
for our brown skin
but
is it a sin
to have my great-grandmother’s
moxie
and my great-grandfather’s
melanin?

so, we wait, we pray, we hope
we fight
for tomorrow
to not be like today

.

.

.

.

.

.

*Today- Monday, Sept 8th

she slips away

sept 22nd
she will say good bye
but for now
she lingers

I feel her trace the shape
of my arms
her warmth
on my face
and neck

she says
she will be back
but when she is gone
it is dark and cold
and I am
abandoned
again

i cant help
but look for her
beg for her
on the horizon
to return-
just a bit faster;
to linger-
just a little longer

dont go
i plead, inwardly
but instead
i say nothing

if she knows
how much i depend on her
maybe she would never
return

i pretend to enjoy
the coziness against the cold and hostile
and bury myself
under a heap of blankets and papers
watching my breath
in the cold frigid nights
knowing
she wouldn’t have wanted this
for me

maybe shes afraid, too
of coming too close
burning me
losing me
but
she could never

she leaves me
limerent and flushed
with her affection and attention

there is no one like her
i close my eyes
and feel her
slip away

Limitless Patience

If I had limitless patience
would that make me a doormat?
would my child feel less stressed?
would I have more laugh lines and less worry lines?

Would I not notice
the position of the sun
as the summer day wound its way
around my never-ending to-do list?

If every set back
was nestled in my limitless
patience
would I lean into the challenges differently?
Would I find joy in the pain
of healing?

If I had limitless patience,
what kind of dreams
would be under my fingertips?
Would the air feel softer
would water be sweeter?

If I had limitless patience
would I know the difference
between the immutable and the dynamic
and would I magically have
the strength
to leave when I should’ve?

Would time seem like a day, an hour, a year, a flower, a lifetime
a garden?
Would life be softer and sweeter or
would I simply learn to savor
bitterness
relish a spicy tang
and everything in between?

If I had limitless patience, would
I
freeze
in time
patiently waiting
for something
that will
never happen
OR would I be waiting
for
something that only happens
once in a lifetime?