Open Letter by Martha Nichols
I’m animated by the fierce intention to figure out what matters.
I’m animated by the fierce intention to figure out what matters.
They’re taking things away from you, those hidden elites, those threatening other-colored others.
I wonder about the half-advertent suicides. About a person who writes about a wing in the sky.
But at least that world’s alive to rage and mourn.
Beside her, the vase swallows her own shadow.
We seek the ocean to find the edge of ourselves.
if i blink, then open my eyes, i am a kaleidoscope of slivers, all pink.
Call it a microcosm or just let it stand for as long as it stands, for as long as it takes your attention and care.
Isn't a protest a public dispute of someone else's truth like the one about the fear of dark bodies?
See shapes of bodies you thought you were in damp cotton jeans silk shirts.