You Are

My momma named me after
somebody on General Hospital
so I am a poet named Ashley, revolutionary
because you can't scrub the sun off my skin
they pull out their index
at the sight of me, Medusa's kin
their fear is man-made
and past its expiration date
but they still keep refilling their prescription
who is this fucked up pharmacist?
for them, there is venom in my pen
and I'll make them swallow this black licorice
if they speak of the other in colors
wrapped around crayons
that kids struggle to get off
and adults stick on their left breast pocket
they will lay on their labels
six feet deep in a sheet
I am fascinating, exotic,
a white girl dipped in chocolate?
a subject to be mastered
a sample under a microscope
someone should have told me to prepare
for this show
I tried to write a script
but all I could come up with
is this...

She even promised herself she wouldn't write about him

She is three weeks from lonely
her honey isn't as sweet as it use to be
she use to kind of sing her words
like Billie's vibrato over strings
you could slow dance
under a half moon to her metaphor
but that was before
now she has coal rimmed eyes
and nothing on her lips but smudged
disappointment
He made flowers drink heavily
and lightening bugs catch fire mid flight
but he will be remembered as nothing special
by her ink.

Run

Don't run
keep your wings buried in your skin
don't let them breathe
don't breathe
exhale a little when he sleeps
beat cracked cement with broken feet
apologize when your clumsy heart
bumps into his fixed mind
paint over his scarlet letter
handcuffed in tarnished gold rings
believe that you are too old to be new
don't run
you can't begin again,
when you started at the end.