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POC: Poets of color

Mitchka Herard


Serene Beauty

My ancestors say

I smell of Brown sugar and honey

They say my eyes sparkle

Like stardust

and my hair curls

Like the mystical patterns

Of Neptune

The rings of Saturn

Circle around my hips

To remind me that I

Have the power to gift another

With life

And so my ancestors cry

When I doubt the extent

Of my strength

They scream, when I forget

To worship the only home

the body I live in

They say to stop sexualizing

My tiger stripes

And start loving

My belly rolls

I look at myself and see

A perfect blend of imperfections

And so I beg my ancestors to

Let me taste

The sweet irony

That drips from their insecurities

In hopes that I may one day

Learn, to love my own

DJ Dunn


Untitled poem

Our assumptions leading to accusations will be our downfall

The blind leading the blind

Wading in the waters of our truths

And leaving us drenched in the answers we never wanted

From the questions we never asked

For how long will they weigh on the heart and linger in the mind

Until we are broken

And there’s nothing left to find

Eddie Maisonet


Egg Cream/ New Normal

Healer affirms I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Spirit & community got me.

Three summers at an ice cream shop, I made two egg creams. One during training- it found the drain. Brash boston accent ordered a chocolate one. Seltzer, syrup, milk. Manager told me it’s a Great Depression vestige. Who’d choose this over real rich ice cream. We have a deep need for richness, sweetness especially when everything is falling apart.

I find myself with roommate discussing shortages: using three squares or less of toilet paper per trip.

I find myself offered 90 day refills, teletherapy, newly livestreamed events. I didn’t have to ask.

I find myself full off smelling roommate’s clever use of overripe banana, a lone cup of apple sauce, pantry oats ground, dry roasted nuts: a vegan, gluten free recipe worth repeating.

I find myself before the man I can’t touch yet and he finally becomes my boyfriend. Through a screen, we shower one another with words and quality time.

I find myself remembering our fingers intertwined between us in his car. Queer internet adolescence prepared me for love when touch is dangerous and impossible.

I find myself in a new home during a pandemic, in a new normal. If I make it, I embrace this. Never thought I would understand the urgency of an egg cream until I adapted my idea of what makes a treat sweet.

I affirm I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, and thank everything I’m anything but alone.

Amber Williams


A Haunting

Mental illness

Has haunted

My entire existence

It is a spirit

That I can

Only tame

Yet never

Rid myself of

It has possessed

My mother

And father

They have


To its


And now

They self medicate

With religion

Or drugs

I choose the

Psychoactive ones

Perscribed by