Black Reads: Issue 032

We back with another Black Reads issue for the cousins. Can I also note how much I love that no matter what Black third space we enter, culturally we are always referred to as cousins?

I say it all the time, because I mean that shit, I love being Black! It’s an experience I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

Today’s collection is a continuation of honoring and appreciating Black poetry, so enjoy because these poems will leave you speechless to a degree.

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"I let it rise,
let it gather on my face,
each drop a small offering,
each bead paying homage to you,
a thank you written in salt
and shine."

For two weeks, in the subscriber chat y’all have been tagging this poem by Aaron Whitfield and I understand why one hundred percent. I’m a huge fan of Aaron’s writing style, it’s warm and feels familiar—like home.

A Poem | But Sun, I’ve Missed You

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"Removed my knees and elbows that begged for you to stay
I pulled my brain out so I could never remember the thought of you
I peeled it all back so it would reveal my skeleton
Finally, free from the body that you claimed you loved"

You ever loved someone and wanted to take your love back from the person? Well this poem by LADY MONI 💌 puts words to that feeling in a way I haven’t experienced before and I loved every moment of it. Made me want to send it to my ex-wife, oops did I say that out loud? :)

Stripped down to the Skeleton

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"remnants of Cabernet sit at the bottom of my glass, warm from the heat that’s been permeating from my body. the more he speaks, the more the blood in my body rushes.

its almost like his tongue is laced with lust and passion — and the gravity of his presence wants my body to be it’s host. it continues to pull me closer until I have no choice but to give in." 

When Audre Lorde told us to write erotic poetry, this is what she meant, and I don’t need to prove that statement because once you read it you’ll say the same. Now Soul x SWMarie ✨ why would you do this to us? More please!!!

The Dangerous Game of Temptation

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"But here—see here, everything is about the dollar, even the honoring. Even the grief has a price to pay. Every February, it, too, takes its toll. And the closest thing we get to an acre is 28-days of crafted capitalism masked as celebration."

I loved this one so much because Brianna Perry gave us a mini lesson and some Black ass reflection all in one post. How lucky are we to experience this magic?

everyday is Black history.

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