The bones, too. Eat the bones too. Eat the leaves of strawberries; do not bite the fruit off and throw the rest away as if the plant grew itself with the intention of being easier for human hands. Soft salmon vertebrae melting into my jaw like warm chalk, and taking bitter green with the sweet… Continue reading Bones
Category: poetry
For northern girls
If you knew how proud they are that you made it to the age of 16 21 twenty-five 30 thirty-six age 10. in this province built up on the devastation of universes and bodies like ours you might never feel lonely again. The next time you wonder if life is easier outside of all your dark-hair, dark-sky… Continue reading For northern girls
miwasin
Poetry gives me freedom, sometimes. Sometimes forces me into shapes, corners, feminities that are stunning, suffocating And deliciously dishonest. Once I said I wanted my writing to taste good served with misâskwatômina, like sweet berries. Like the only way Native women are valuable is when we are consumable. Pretty. Sweet. But the problem is my writing smells more like… Continue reading miwasin