a poem by Jessica Hite

this is not talent this is survival
there is no luxury, there is only a
no idling of time stomach full of blood
from swallowing pain
no wildflowers, only soil and thorns
no Beauty or Sublime a brown body that’s been
trying to make space
no old white men, just a little blk girl
or ash on the fireplace learning all the ways
to spell grief and pain
no raven, or maidens just lorde and sanchez
no poe, or lord byron and baldwin and everyone else
that has pieced blk & brown
bodies together, page after page

this is not talent, this is survival

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