“My black fan oscillates like my moods—the whisper of its blade sing and I speak his name, play with the sounds and have titles for new poems: tent, twenty, tenacity, trench, truth, trudge, titillating, truancy, trend, rent, vent, fret.”
“The blade was wedged in there really good. I remember thinking it would be hard and painful to pull it out. I could’ve called the teacher over, but instead I dug the sharp edge in deeper.”