Speechless Words need to be said yet since birth I have had a dog’s collar wound tight around my neck, choking each syllable into a cough, sigh or gasp unable to say the word – love. Thus my churning intestines are tightly bound round, twisting my innards out, where there were no words, only sighs, …

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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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She Awoke in Twenty-one Parts She awoke naked. She awoke breathless. She awoke with Winston licking her face then barking. She awoke wet. She awoke sweating. She awoke simmering in her own hot bath. She awoke alone. She awoke hung over. She awoke with a stranger’s tongue, dry and fuzzy. She awoke fighting. She awoke …

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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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Who’s knocking at the backdoor of my eyelids…….Its’ one forty-seven a.m.! 1:47 am Doesn’t that bird know  it is one fifty-five in a dark morning. Hours before day break. I wrestle with my sheets To fall deeper into her folds to silence the parade of words. © SB Joy