ivory hued dolls with wavy golden locks lovingly combed and styled sat carefully along the bedroom shelf their piercing blue eyes painted open in horror their mouths forming silent ‘O’s of unheard screams no protection no comfort can they offer these porcelain witnesses of the injustices inflicted upon her young brown body by a racist … Continue reading The Bluest Eye – Christine E. Ray
Mahogany skin lends itself, naturally, to scaffolding and furniture alike, crafting exquisite sculptures pale hands envy and caress, asking cinnamon’s warm russets to wipe snotty noses and dust behind the golden fabric-ed recliner, left fetishized and unused in the corner. Scabbards, every colored womb, that bridge yesterday’s hatred with tomorrow’s subjugation, deny a solitary fact— … Continue reading This Bridge Called My Back – Tamara Fricke
Sister Outsider how many times have my hazel eyes bought me the luxury of blindness? how many times has the skin I walk in this ivory cocoon insulated me from your reality? how many times have I naively claimed that we are all the same underneath our pigment as if my bones had carried the … Continue reading Sister Outsider – Christine E. Ray
The number of our destruction smacked us in the face, But too many didn’t want to see. They liked the words they heard, Shrinking their ever-enlarging world: --Where you walk is holy (as long as you got thousand-dollar shoes) --We don’t care! Just wanna keep up with a Kardashian or two. … Continue reading Mad World Creativity Prompt Challenge: A White Mad World – Annette Kalandros
my survivor’s brain does not try to process man’s inhumanity to man whole anymore it scans the image trying to make sense of the puzzle pieces a car bodies frozen in flight accidental aerialists a beautiful tattoo on a contorted back black truck parked to the right the horrified and incredulous looks on the faces … Continue reading Charlottesville, Virginia August 12, 2017
Like many writers, I have periods where poetry and essay spill from my fingertips as if I am just a conduit for words poured into me by the universe. A vessel. I also have times when I stare at the stark white screen while the cursor blinks reproachfully at me, taunting me when I am … Continue reading Writing During the Apocalypse
Brave & Reckless 