poems from prison

what about when you sweat

and then wash under

a clean faucet

until the very thought of you

is open wide bee hives

pores drip honey down her sides

 

what about when you cry

so many do yoga, but why

c this all the temple i have

move like this, i get to be bad

and pray into hips

finger tips had

sparks flying off, i swear

black curling hair

cartwheel colors of care

 

what about parvati

and how she dance

a writer flashing stories

a fighter blind with glory

but i am forever

and this body is not

find the beat

monarch all youve got

butterflies choke the air

sound of orange raindrops in her hair

*

 

so much to say, thanks for reading!  -rs

 

 

 

 

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