Edge
“A woman is perfected.”
Sylvia Plath
She is bare.
She is open.
Petals around her neck,
the moon on her shoulders,
she stares at the world,
takes it to the edge of
all the words
men weren’t able to invent.
To Rachel
Race Chronicle en Bref
Every time you ask my color
the world is totally silent
and any crack in the song
is not half a dream
it’s an entire country incomplete
The Reservation
If you don’t understand
your homeland
hunger makes it all clear
Image Credits: xaic_
