My People, Scattered Verbs
I didn't know I came from a culture until I left it Until overseas named me a child again
The hook of my tongue
Look at it Don’t look at us
Blab it, who do we become after this poem ends
Hey That lanky smile on your face
The playground is a battlefield
I am looking for a poet to tell my story I am looking for a poet
Self portrait as a doorway
You will change Like how the moon forgets its name each morning
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I I am I am a boy
A boy as new as me
I am a queer black boy with a magic wand I am a queer black boy melting masculine codes with magic
Inheritance after fire
I will forget you I am forgetting you already
Slivers of his son
And though love might not be enough Still
Crossing the bar
After my father died I tried to die too
It blooms like peonies
You are a boy with no voice Yet you keep speaking upon us