i’d like a compass with you at the north and my sisters in the west i’ll keep it in my pocket and take it out for direction when i can’t remember the skin i’m in or the rhythm of my own song to the south are the mountains, pink rhododendrons and sweet tea…
orange over me upon still solemn sidewalk silent under black My breathing quickens. the truth is too tight: innocent men are confined tortured to death human-inflected trauma in the name of national security The cells of my eyes water what my heart holds. my love, Jesus, tortured by thorns, nails, cross laments stab while questions…
