November 25, 2022

AR-15

names rolling around like 

marbles on my tongue

there's no Q for queer in
my phone directory, no V for
this violence or that violence
is a threat to her to his to their
safety. are they alive are they
alive are they alive are they alive

are they alive.

mapping out constellations
of who to text who to call who
to write who to scour social
media to determine last known
point of communication. I 
never predicted a square 
image with white block letters
would be a love language. are
they alive are they alive are
they alive are they alive

are they alive.

since 1982, the majority of 
mass shooters are white. the
majority of mass shooters are men. 
we talk about generational trauma
but what of generational spiritual
desperation? what of those who
are taught violence and hate as
"culture" or "religion" or "politics?"
what of all the times when we
see the signs and choose to 
say nothing. if death is the
outcome, and death is the risk

are we alive.

November 16, 2022

La Luna


the nightmares persist
but the scales rebalance
towards hope. they say
if you stand by water for
thirty minutes then your
troubles will float away, 
carried off by the tides,
overseen by the moon. last
night she looked so full, but
might not have been. every
time I see her this bold, this
sure of herself, I think back
to that one night in El Salvador
when the dam broke and they
held me. they named the violence, 
and they held me. they gently 
pulled away the bottle, and 
they held me. they shouted my
name in the dark, and they
held me. they found a smooth
edge on a rock on a mountain, 
and they held me.

and for that night, underneath
the moon, I am grateful. for
I've never felt as alone at night since.