7/23/20 D) Anti-Ghazal

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we’ve sat on the phone in silence putting voice,

and words to our pain. now you’re asleep.


what use do i have for games of kickball and 

chasing after babies when that aint my thang?


Sunday mornin’s: up, fed, bathed, and dressed 

we head to the praise-house for the next 2 hours.


worked a 8 hr shift, got home, got naked and in bed.

well into the night, watching Netflix; typing poems.


does ‘unhappiness’ have a unique scent, or a scent at all? 

or is it the rankness of despair that i'm confusing?

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