New Moon
Ode to Senator Kamala Harris
Published in
Oct 18, 2020
I’m tired, waning.
My stomach cramps
So sick
That orange face
Always Breaking
News. What’s new about It?
Going on four — no
Over
Four hundred years. Constantly
Verging
Tears, screams; running
Away
Where?
My skin does not
Offend
My hair needn’t be
Straightened
Surrender, like a plastic bag
Suffocating.
A gust of Air
Resembling
Me and mine. Breaking
News and shackles,
Ripping
Collars and nooses,
Championing
Breath for all,
Encouraging joy.
I’m putting on my sneakers
Running with Her
A new moon
Rising.
© 2020 Kim Simmons
