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dancing girl press, 2013
$7.00 Soyini Ayanna Forde was raised in Trinidad and Tobago. She enjoys hot cups of tea, pop culture, select branches of feminist theory, and various facets of West Indianness. She has work in Racialicious, the Guidebook, tongues of the ocean, Black Renaissance Noire, and the Caribbean Writer. She is a graduate of Barry University and the Stonecoast MFA program. A Hole in the Sack of Desire You say you cannot kiss the crooked staircase of my back and not feel sad. How it clacks something awful— like dry spaghetti when I arch how it bows like the bones don’t want to hold up my skin anymore. My eggshell back my carrier of malady blessed betrayal of symmetry my knapsack of love. Pick your face up, lover from the wet cave of my stomach soft as ripe pommerac meat, feel how I am cleaved at the curve. Mapping desire up and down the gnarled column of my back over your longitude of vein, how you raise and read the braille of my pores. Some seepage is a dirty stain, some you curl towards your lips, suck softly at in remembrance. |