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Literature Text
"The most dangerous days, my doorway
Haven for vitriol and fun
You may take twenty children
but you won't be taking my gun"
Haven for vitriol and fun
You may take twenty children
but you won't be taking my gun"
Literature
A Parenthesis
You were (a parenthesis, that paused
the daily, mundane stuff
of life;
a bundled breath
of fresh joy,
and borne in the wonder
of love.
Gasping and grasping,
'til in quiet you laid
still;
and I, my Child,
lie in quiet, still
tears).
And now, that is all you are,
and still so much more.
Literature
If
We can
draw lines and give them names
like elements
as they are discovered
Or etch into our skins
this soloecal desire
until it is impossible to tell
where words stop
and life begins.
I would
Find a common rhythm that includes
you in my arms, my hands
and lungs and thoughts
tracing the outline of you
entangled with me
colliding like two lost particles
locked in a shared gravity
drifting through the vacuum
of space.
I could.
Exhale, and
remember
sentence structure.
Literature
Automatic
i.
"So where are you from?" The boy leans toward me, questions swimming in his eyes. I smile.
"Oh, I'm from Boston."
"No, I mean, where are you from?" My smile falters as I realize where this is going. It's an all-too familiar conversation, one I've been having since I was old enough to reply.
"Do you mean where was I born?"
"Yeah."
"I was born in China."
"Do you speak Chinese?"
"No."
"Does your family speak Chinese?"
"No."
He looks befuddled. I sigh.
"I'm adopted."
"Oh!" I see the light bulb over his head go off in a shower of sparks. "Do you know who your real parents are? Like, your real parents?" My temper flares. I stifle th
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