I shout out to deny my mouth its rights to quiet peace
I fist my hand to deny it the right to caress a child
I slam my feet into the earth to deny them of their right to float lengthwise on a feather bed
What are our rights?
That's what I said.
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Soaking up the rain and whipping spit of the waves, as he stood next to the ocean of my memory, a fire hydrant in a red windbreaker, glaring...
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"Well...that was dramatic." I didn't know what he meant until I saw the ink spilled everywhere and the moths in her hair like ...