Collective Unrest

 

I Remember

May 21, 2020

I wore brown boots that night.

I remember ice cubes clanking
In one burnt-umber glass
Clutched inside your grasp

I remember street lamps shining
On the soaked sidewalk
Stained with soil

I remember knee-high socks,
Toes toward the ceiling
Legs spread, and your face

I remember asking how
I remember saying no

I remember.
I wore brown boots that night.


Author bio: Charlene V. Martoni is a NY-based poet and librarian whose work explores the intersections between memory, trauma, and personal growth. You can follow her on Twitter @cvmartoni.

Please follow and like us:
In category:
Older Post

Four Poems by Lauren Villa

YOU NEEDED TO STAY The first time I heard how my father came to the United States It was snowing and I drank tea and watched the sky open with blue  My father’s stories pulled me on a dark train…
Read
Random Post

humanity

Gladly sucking the poison from these putrid skies that rip apart at a moment's notice, A man sits in an old white house. Tongue lax, fingers slugs leaving slime and oil smeared across, a violent horizon, that threatens to destroy…
Read
Random Post

1946

Snowflakes blew sideways down Main Street in Richmond, Virginia. It was Valentine's Day. Newlyweds, James and Betty Smith cuddled inside the trolley car. Betty took the cuff of her coat and brushed it across the window. Snow powdered brick buildings,…
Read
Random Post

Day of the Daisy: A Musical

Day of the Daisy: A Musical," by Margaret Koger is a powerhouse hybrid of poetic edge and unique execution blending journalistic citation into the fray with effortless prowess as it plunges you into its winding narrative. A refreshing example of…
Read
Random Post

Resist

Every day we awaken to some new atrocity, scandal, misuse and abuse of power at the hands of men. Every day a new tragedy, trauma, act of white male terrorism. Each sunrise piling fear atop compounding fear. We awaken to…
Read
Random Post

god != Freedom

One chain remains -wrapped around our throats, Slinking into our mouths. Syrup sweet brightness filling the void With every link. To hide the taste of blood-metal. Coiling our brain, Laying roots. Toiling fields in Our frontal lobe. that grow blessings…
Read