Two Poems

 

by Keaira Carr

        

                                                                                        

CONFLICTION

Though she besotted me as a wilted rose does my unabating eyes; I mustn't take another step forward.

The siren calls continue to rattle my shipwrecked mind, how thy lips turn the never ending sea of longing into a low tide.

She trapped me, efficiently. Her irises disembogue from my faulty dam, debris of past affairs entangling into her clear water.

Enveloping my lone body in the sea of the past, present and future; she holds me so, sorting through the burdensome debris.

 

I MISSPOKE (AGAIN)

I’ll live in a closet, it’s quiet and shut. Steady, and dark, diminishing me from the light.

The door stays locked, but a creak is heard. Keeping me watchful, keeping me alert.

Beneath me sits a rug, the rug of my idiotic comments, remarks, mistakes. They sit with me alone, they sit with me in the dark.

The door continues creaking, whispers of false encouragement leaking underneath the door.

The whispers grow louder, dissolving amongst my ego. The fragile little one grasping onto the air of what used to be and what is no longer.

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Keaira Carr is a Junior Social Work Major with a minor in global humanities. She has been writing poetry and prose since age eight. Her works primarily talk about her experiences as a black queer woman in the United States, highlighting the inequality and struggles she faces with her identity and background.