I would say this aloud
but my tongue is
heavy, soaked, bathed
in how I imagine you taste.

the veins, nerves, synapses
in my body shoot signals
like flailing arms,
a rush of blood,
swimming upstream to my brain–

I scream for you
from the inside out.

I want your limbs
lost, blurred, blended,
on, under, top,
tangled, with, in
mine

I want my bed to feel
like the levees broke,
a bottomless gulf,
a sea with no horizon–

I know you’re afraid
of large bodies of water
and I watch the way
you wade into me

so I don’t mean to scare you
when I tell you

that I want the way
we touch each other
to look a lot more
like drowning.

- drowning, v.n 

gender dysmorphia be like

waking up out of your sleep
and forgetting which parts of your body
were given to you and claimed by others

holding a pile of laundry over your chest
and finding solace in there being no reflection
of your breasts in the mirror

while knowing one day you’ll carry
a baby girl in between your hips
and smile when she feeds from you

realizing you take up more space in a room now
but feeling insecure about filling it wide with softness
because trying to stand up too tall hurts your shoulders

having always felt blue in the moonlight
but not knowing “boi” and “boy”
could feel so interchangeable

being jealous of the name
your parents picked out for you as a boy  
but not feeling right in anyone else’s but yours

not even wanting to write this poem into existence
because what would my parents say
if i found myself even further

like mourning
like celebration
like definition
like lack thereof

like they/them at 8am
like she/her at 3pm
like they/them when i talk
like she/her when i fuck

like me,
so why the fuck does it even matter
like me,
so the fuck I’m tripping over a construct for

gender dysmorphia be like
a new discovering of
me. 

- gender dysmorphia discovery, v.n.

sun floods into your rooms
the way Jill Scott’s voice
used to pour into my father’s kitchen
on Sunday afternoons after church
golden
like warm even when the heat won’t run
like safe even when the doors don’t lock
like home even when you’re miles away.
golden
like my teeth shine brighter when we smile with each other
like when we laugh together and it sounds like velvet
like higher power like we hold each other up like we see the sunlight in each other even when we feel like sunsets sinking below the horizon
like we keep each other lifted
golden
like priceless like timeless like this is a forever thing
this poem ain’t about the way the sun floods your house
but how you fill an empty space with light and turn it into a home
how you tend to hearts with love
and turn friendships into gold.

– for my girls in apartment 6, v.n. 

The night after the election,

i dreamed my sister got

stabbed in the back

with an American flag pole

the faceless figure who stabbed her

threw a hijab at her feet

soaked with spit

and laughed

“try not to bleed out you dirty nigger”

i woke up to the sound of my own shrieking.

–

Last night,

i thought i had a better day

but upon falling asleep

i dreamed that my arms were ripped apart

by police guard dogs

their barks sounded like the word “Trump! Trump! Trump!”

in between each chomp

–

i dreamed a klansman raped my lover

licked her skin with his split tongue

grabbed in between her thighs with clawed hands

dressed her in only a noose

made her choke out

“I love the way you fuck me, the way America fucks me”

in between each thrust, punch, grip, blow

and made me watch.

–

i dreamed of trying to escape

but the ice freezing the roads over

and fire burning the clouds

and the tides rising too high to swim

i didn’t even dream of drowning

because that too is a form of escape

but i dreamed i simply sat, waited

for my freedom

knowing there was no escape car, plane, train,

underground railroad, second coming

i woke up in a pool of my own sweat

and wondered if this is what Hell smelled like.

–

After the election,

i thought the only way to escape

the helplessness of dreams deferred

was to forge them in my sleep

–

But even in my dreams

i am as bare and as tender

as the black, woman body

i surrender to this country

–

Maybe tonight i’ll try to sleep

with one eye open

just in case the monsters

outside become less scary

than the ones in that are rioting

against my very existence

in my dreams.

– the night after, i dreamed, v.n.

“what are you doing?”
“watching you sleep while writing
poems in my head”

“watching me sleep– why?”
“because when i look at you
sleeping it’s like.. wow

it’s like a stillness
not like stiff, like– everything
in that moment just–”

“–stops.”
“exactly.”
“still.”

right like, is this real
or a dream? is my heart
beating or did it stop?

am i suspended?
floating? just looking at how
beautiful you are?

–

its when in motion
that we’re most likely to miss
each others subtleties.

but when i feel still–
like this– noticing you,
it’s like it’s all clear.

it’s like the first breath
you take after noticing
the air’s clean outside

or right before you
dive into a pool and the
world just stops silent

for just a second
you’re floating before you break
the water’s surface

or before your phone
rings and interrupts that clean
air that you’re breathing in

looking at you feels
like that. a subtle pause, a
moment suspended

an in and exhale,
a stillness, a poem i’ll
never write quite right. 

– eight a.m., v.n

she’s a woman who

get what she wants. so best be 

careful, be ready

cause if she sets sights 

on you, you ain’t got no choice

but to love her good.

- honey woman, v.n.

don’t choose it because 

you love her. choose it because

you love yourself, first.

- 11:38 p.m, v.n

there is so much more

to the city than the girl

that you came here for.

- philadelphia, v.n