in between essays, you fall asleep on your couch and wake to a call from me because i thought about you on my way out from work, stopped at a railroad track. you. a boy in a flannel shirt from a poetry reading three months ago. a boy who picked the title out of the raffle bag about the blind lady on halloween. you won nothing but a poem from me ( Read more... )

I can't keep reading
those pictures you're taking.

I finished braiding Malorie's hair and we ran into the kitchen to show everyone. Momma came and smiled and smiled and smiled. "Let me comb your hair!" she shouted my way. Comb my hair? Why? "Just let me!" I couldn't remember the last time I let Momma touch my hair, not since the second grade probably. She would pull my hair back in the slickest ( Read more... )

As he pressed his body through hand print stained doors he caught the glance of a woman with loose braids hanging over her shoulders. The empty rivers that dressed his deep brown eyes compressed into a squint to examine the youthful sway of her hips. The cracked reminders of age on his face had showed more than he wanted, as did the victory of ( Read more... )