I have opened a new space, Raven’s Wing Drafts, to share my working drafts and revisions in a private setting, as I intend to submit the final products of these for publication. Go check it out, and if you’re interested in reading anything, contact me privately for the password.
To be black in America is to at times commune with the unnaturally dead.
— Cornell W. Brooks
Should I count my blessings:
that I don’t have bullets
buried in my back,
And Aaron shall lay both his hands upon the head of the live goat, and confess over him all the iniquities of the children of Israel…putting them upon the head of the goat, and shall send him away…into the wilderness.
— Leviticus 16:21
Hidden sins are an anvil
on the head: your jaw aches,
your brain bowed low
until it is an evil grin.
I learned this when I was 13,
wearing goat skins for the sins
of my tribe:
Posted in Confessional, Poems, Prompt Poems, Red Wolf Poems
Tagged abuse, childhood, confessional, dysfunction, poem, poet, poetry, Red Wolf, Red Wolf Poems, scapegoat
Nothing is yellow here. I am surrounded
by brownstone giants poking square holes
in a gray cloud ceiling. I haven’t seen
a cyclone in years, only twin smoke pillars of grief
pouring from dying concrete towers.
The room dissolved, bloomed
night as blue-black blood and
rain dashes sprinting to Earth and
slapping shadow-stained pavement.
This is my latest #boycottautismspeaks virtual protest. For those who don’t know, I have chosen, along with other autistic people and those who love them, to stop buying from businesses who financially support Autism $peaks.
But wait a minute, Nicole, you might be saying. You’re autistic. What gives?
Howdy folks! I am now on Instagram. Check out my first Instagram poem below — hopefully the first of many experiments in micropoetry.