We cross the Massacre River as Mother holds her new aluminum pots close to her chest so the water doesn’t take them. Papa grabs my hand so the water doesn’t take me.
We leave behind the Dominican women selling goods from their booths and I hear “perejil?” from a woman in the distance. She rolls her ‘R’s effortlessly–the way I’ve practiced for years. It’s not in my blood.
The brown water reflects the hot sun and as I think of the nerve this woman has selling parsley. Our feet touch Haitian ground again and Papa lets out a sigh of relief.
Tears like raindrops,
acid rain from his pollution.
Eyes full of clouds,
killing all of my plants,
my flowers, my greens.
Get it together, girl.
He said he didn’t like the rain.
My earth revolved around his sun
until we floated
closer and closer,
Just a quick update. I know I’m not very active on here, but I’d like to give a heads up: I’m currently working on a poetry series called Deep Space. This series of poems will explore the idea of domestic abuse–physical and emotional. You can find them all under my Deep Space Series tag.
Its fresh, it’s brand new, and I’m just beginning to write it. So I’ll be posting some of the poems from my series sporadically. These will range from extremely rough drafts to completley finished. WordPress is just an easy way for me to save my writing.
Anyway! I’d absolutely love ANY feedback anyone wants to give. Like I said, these are all new poems and its all new to me. So please like and comment any thoughts you have on my poems.