Poems from mscuroe
When I am twelve my cousins
ask why I never go to church
Because I don't believe in God
I qualify a Judeo-Christian one that is...
Chill cinnamon rolls and cherry pie
go down until I feel ill
At a plastic table my siblings
are resolute
Crusts of fresh white bread...
I left them behind in the airport
and forgot to look back
Eight months and twenty-eight days
this country has been growing in me...
Did you know our bodies
are works of words
that can be read
You have soccer stained on your shins
the man’s hands say Dad
in...
if we all smoked a little more weed
and built a few less bombs
the world would be a better place