a winter twilight


A Winter Twilight
Angelina Weld Grimké

A silence slipping around like death,
Yet chased by a whisper, a sigh,
a breath; One group of trees, lean,
naked and cold,
Inking their cress ‘gainst a
sky green-gold;

One path that knows where the
corn flowers were;
Lonely, apart, unyielding, one fir;
And over it softly leaning down,
One star that I loved ere the
fields went brown

Photo by Giorgi Iremadze on Unsplash


the world says not to expect the world


The World Says Not to Expect the World
Khadijah Queen

But do it anyway —                be made, all
out of love—             taken, bestowed, lived
through, by means of, without

the beauty we don’t want
to waste              & the world says it
wants, but trashes, sees as glut, usable

in a finite manner          We like talk
of human          forevers as holes in us
unfilled, we’re raggedy apartments

Which thin glamour to blame for such
schism, runaways          & orchids
tattooed on wrists or thighs, as dull men scoff—

We still say             keep fighting

& love me again—           don’t the pines die, too

& exactly          with our names

Photo by María Ten on Unsplash