back to poetry
poetry is the politic
you’re my muse now
so many different names
used, i’m confused how
to identify the real you.
how to -peel back
-pierce through
the multiple layers
that form you.

we were human beings
at first and became
human becomings
when we discovered
what’s beneath our

like pure hot water
you’re so
pure. it’s so
sans tea, by third

then the lemon.
then the frustration.
then the flood of emotion.

the reality
of this realm.
the chokmah
of know-betters
and should’ves.

so we sip the longing
of our belonging
and rest in the
thought (bubble)
‘that God knows
what’s happening.’

you’re my muse now
i’m paying my dues loud
and clear while our soul
(singular) rises
to the surface.