Poem Number 6, The Intelligent Machine I’ve met a set of yellow cavity ridden Bloodied gummed teeth That eats every thought ever thought Attached to a machine That crunches the bones of cattle like words Its’ a monster Analyzing and spitting answers in my face Its’ tongues licks me up and down Sizing me up …

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Folgers As a child the Folger’s coffee can got more touches then I. So, I learned how to get real small, learned how to cram myself inside that can hoping to feel the warmth of my father’s hands and not their backsides. © SB Joy, 2022 As a child I could smell the Folger’s brewing, …

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Skinned A family can survive major pruning. The loss of parent, grandparent, child. However, a family tree can’t survive without its bark. The stripping away of my childhood’s outer layer. The intentional toughing up routines backfired, thinning the skin until raw and every word or touch burned like a bare light socket sunk into my …

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Silence Fifty years plus, silenced & caged. To write is to free the golden finch, imprisoned at eight, by a man’s filthy hands, reaching where claws don’t belong. The golden finch’s songs ruptures the cage & silence’s song. © SB Joy, 2021 What song has trauma silenced in you? SBJ

Greedy Hands Angel in bright white night gown Soiled, smudged from your earthly visit, Trapped in the trauma of a little boy Raped by his mother’s man. You can’t unsee, that dirt, that stain, It doesn’t come clean, the bile Of man’s defiling greedy hands Shoveling himself inside a little boy. © SB Joy Image …

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MOnsteR How is it I was terrified as a child and no one took notice? Most likely it was because those in charge of noticing were the monsters under the bed. They were the conundrum. Without them I would die, with them I may die. A child stuck in mid-air, weightless, unattached, discombobulated. What to …

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