When my mother says she doesn’t think she is beautiful, I want to tell her that she is my home. She built me, from scratch, and held me in womb, in arms, even now though I am setting down roots miles away my mother is my home. Her walls were all I knew and her…

From a young age we are taught to pursue love. Beginning with the schoolyard chant: first comes love, then comes marriage then comes the baby in the baby carriage. But always, first, comes love. And we get older, develop crushes and start dating, we realize that “love” is one of the most complicated words we’ll ever learn,…

When I do something, it is with my whole heart and soul. I don’t halfway commit, I don’t dabble, I don’t dip my toe in. I plunge headfirst, with a huge grin on my face. I’ll think about what could go wrong, the risks, the stumbling blocks, and I’ll always, time after time, I’ll let…

The pelvis sways, pendulum of desire and fulcrum of movement. Eye of a storm, under the grapefruit rind of flesh. Connecting the spokes, it sits on a stark white throne, cradled below a fallow field or an empty drum. In between two restless pillars, the pelvis sways, anchor and propulsion.

In the third grade, we learned about Ellis Island and we had a day where we all had to dress up and pretend we were immigrants and had to go through the harsh customs that all those who passed through Ellis Island experienced. My white friends, aka all of my friends, cobbled together bits and pieces…

I am trying to figure out how much of myself is me and how much is a product of a society that doesn’t love a girl who looks like this.

When people ask me, “what’s your story?” I never know what to say. What is my story? Sometimes I want to say I’m lonely and sad and I don’t do enough but I care too much. And I’m waiting for my life to begin but rather it has already begun and I’m desperately trying to…

In your night sky eyes and quiet earth skin I find a home, a place, that speaks to me of kin. There is something in you that runs in me, in blood, in bone, in heart, maybe I can see your fire, your unfailing light, your sweet youth wrought courage and clear sight. See, by the…

I don’t know your favorite color or your mother’s name. I can’t remember your birthday, April maybe, I remember it rained. You don’t know I’ll never be honest, to a late night “how’ve you been?”, Anyways, we haven’t spoken since August We aren’t friends, never was never will but when I’m caught in the wide…

I wrote myself full, needing nothing. You dipped your fingers in me, only to find my soul wanting.