Poems from lynnguibbory
If you took a good, long, hard look at her stomach, what would you see? Don't look at the skin of her stomach which she mistakes for fat...
She used to cry. Every day.
Then she realized she didn't need salt-tainted tears to recognize her pain.
All she needed was a knife.
A woman raises her voice.
A man raises his fist.
A child cries herself to sleep,
Without even being kissed.
I remember the dirt buried beneath my fingernails.
The anxious feeling of a young girl, choosing the perfect seed to plant.
I remember...