Our eyes are slashes across our faces

sometimes it is almost in a violent sense.

Her cheeks remind me of mesas in the summer

mainly for their color, layers and cracks.

I’m slightly relieved she beat that white guy’s ass.

 할머니

I have one in LA.

I was writing about you when I read

several other women died

I don’t know if I am capable of a vigil right now,

but writing about you until 7 in the morning

was not enough.

This is what happens every time a white man kills someone

I write, and some white man prays for us

So I am quieter than usual today.

the sun died quickly; blackness envelopes my window

and the streetlamps glow like crosses

Just like yesterday