Black women give birth to Art

Leniency looks like
she's ready to tie him up
rug burn ready
leaving nothing but desire
and fantasy
dripping

opaque silks
ambiguity
building trust
somewhere around 3 am
a mouth full of effervescence

a free and forbidden
Fuck
stanking syllables
grace
beyond mistakes

She is ravenous
gentle
He sucks her life
and inhales
her tears

Tropical Mic

He storms
festering quickly
zero to 100 in a blink
blank and brooding
seated

between what we used to be
and what we are
angry that he's only
enjoying the breezes
He has needs

His necessary
travels
rage through states
in screaming escapades
deceiving and destroying

everything he touches
grappling with his mistakes
like he dropped a mic
before the set ended
and he's standing embarrassed

looking for me
collateral damage
thrift store treasure
discarded comforts
the salvation in his army

That's when I touch him
stand in his disappointment
use my fingertip to write
a new direction
and point to his heart

cover my lips
watch him defuse
wait for him to melt
and catch his wax
 between my fingers

The corner of Zaire and Epiphany

I am sunken
almost swallowed by your embrace
and you laugh
as if my wholeness
can be consumed

used or kissed away
erased
crumbled, crayoned
a craving for
completion

but you compete with me
arm your ego
with self grandeur
to cast shadows
My shine isn't an option

Steel conducts heat
and it doesn't shield you from
who I am
no matter how skilled
a warrior you may be

I fight with stakes
tasty sharpness
driven through your heart
from under my breast
through your chest cavity

demolishing proximity
reducing intimacy
to the death
it really
is