By Kristal Peace (This poem contains domestic abuse.) My mother holdsMy hand as we navigateThe city’s streets during rush hour,The song of sirens escorting us home.She holds the grocery bagThat yanks her toward dinner. She holdsThe sharp words my fatherFlings at her when she thinksThe day is going well. She…
by Lisa Harris First principle: Perfection, peace, wholeness, being complete: one. We speak into each other’s lives and begin becoming. Tenor toned your velvet voice makes a pillow for me to choose. When I misunderstand or don’t hear, I trust timber and pitch. I trust you. On a campus where…
