There are always half-written poems scribbled in notebooks and on pieces of junk mail. There are hundreds of lines typed out in the notes app on my phone and many more that have disappeared…

Being Black in North America is not the easiest thing, it requires a certain level of resiliency. This poem is about how isolating it can feel growing up Black in North America…

My husband had taken our 3 boys on a short weekend trip and I was in our home by myself for the first time in a while. It occurred to me that, someday in the future, this would be my life…

Be wild. Have your poems lie around the house, pick and drop them whenever you feel to. The ones you feel most drawn to, you’d want to share. The other poems will find a different home…