Tired eyes, a scarf around her face and bluish-purple nails to stand out against her crisp hands.
Staring at nothing,
A simple void of untouched flaws and mindless behavior.
The banter of a noiseless chorus echoes in the chamber of
Symphonies; pronounced by the sun that beckons your name each morning.
We wander to the window, pry it open and
Listen.
She always prayed when she was scared.
Forcing out the word of God, freeing her vulva, shaking chords.
Soft and sweet she calls.
Sometimes she comes with salty tears and a drop to her knees on the cold wood floor,
Her knees dented like the sides of her cheeks.
She always prayed when she was scared.
Sometimes hard.
Sometimes soft and sweet.
Wouldn’t change a thing
the way I met you,
in San Francisco with my
Ginger braids, wearing my favorite crew.
I never imagined that we would dance on top of your roof and sing in your car,
It felt almost too perfect, too fast, and too good for me.
Ashanté J. Ford is a curator of words that induce feelings of joy and incessant thoughts. They just hand-made their first chapbook titled Capsule, which allows the reader to time-travel through her universe. Ashanté, also know as Angel Ash, continues to share her light with the world through her unwavering belief in radical Black joy. See Ashanté in issue Sixteen. WEB
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