Miranda Arocho Poems

First,
I passed this place away
Then I made a home
...

I visited your clay and painting gallery
You had many the vignette
I saw you building a corpse
While smoking a menthol cigarette
...

You never really saw this coming at all
This is not a dream,
It’s too evocative for that
And ethereally bound
...

I couldn’t see
Past my rapist’s door
In gravity my vision left in speckles
...

Mr. Black was in line for another black coffee
While holding the flags of rebellion on his name tag
In the midst of enlisting the confederates that stalk me
...

Private self-medication
Through disturbed nature;
Shoot me, Marcel Duchamp
...

On desperate nights
Darkness dreamed

My love for death
...

That white cat didn’t hear a sound
Flattered by sarcasm, quite confounded

As long as I’m here, he’s around
...