in a dream
i wrote in permanent ink
onto overwashed cotton
will it bleed onto your chest
i hope.
a simple message
with collarbone readiness.

just my imagination

that i possess
this body
of words
war
the face of my enemy

third party vocabulary
i stand
above
apart
separate
but equal among enemies.

i find happiness in moments
a conversation
a smile, my smile
a song.
but at the end of the day it all feels-
disjointed.
like i can't quite fit within the lines of my shadow
my silhouette is either too big, too small, or moving in an opposite direction from me
what is the point?
i hate to ask that because i don't know the answer

Erykah Badu - Window Seat

i do laundry
at the kitchen window
fold clothes straight from the dryer
as if i'd been born for this
born knowing how to make corners and piles out of clean clothes
or maybe it's all those years i watched my parents do the same,
mommy ironing our skirts and dresses with a VHS tape playing in the background

it will always be summer,
the way i remember things,
summer breeze and summers' sun
setting only after we lay in bed,
backs beaded with sweat, stuck to tie-dyed sheets.

thinking about memories and laundry and summer nights
about the smell of pasta and the sticky yellow linoleum tiles
windows open
and we come,
running, dirty hands, inside for dinner.