[oofpoetry]

You’ve ruined peaches for me. I can’t eat one without thinking of your hands dipping into my soft flesh, mouth dripping, teeth skimming across skin, tongue lapping at the excess: greedy, greedy, greedy. I am all rush and blush at a summer picnic lunch, hands shaking at the farmer’s market.

Trista Mateer, “Peaches”

[oofpoetry]

One day, perhaps some idle tongue mentions your name by accident: I feel as if a rose were flung into the room, all hue and scent.

Wisława Szymborska, from “Nothing Twice”

[oofpoetry]

How can she says Jesus was a white man when he died the blackest way possible? With his hands up, with his mother watching.

Crystal Valentine, from “And the News Reporter Says Jesus Is White”

[oofpoetry]

To my dearest love…. …. my brilliant Sun, The world has decided…. …. we can no longer be one So you take the day…. …. and I’ll take the night You with your happy glow…. …. me with my cold & lonely light It must be this way…. …. always and forever They say we can no longer ….. …. share the sky together But my nights will follow…. …. your brilliant days I am right behind you …. …. and I will love you always So do not be sad my love…. …. please do not fret For my reason to rise…. …. is in watching you set So never forget…. …. that there once was a time When I truly was yours…. ….and you truly were mine That there once was a moment…. …. when I felt you lips If ever you miss me…. …. remember our eclipse

Ranata Suzuki, “A letter to the Sun from the dark side of the Moon”

[oofpoetry]

i can't wrap my head around the fact that i have to convince half the world's population my body is not their bed

rupi kaur, from the sun and her flowers

[oofpoetry]

I want to think again of dangerous and noble things. I want to be light and frolicsome. I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing, as though I had wings.

Mary Oliver, from “Starlings in Winter”

[oofpoetry]

In my culture, we know death intimately. In Arabic, the highest expression of love is the phrase        “ya’aburnee” Translated “you bury me” - It means “I love you so much, I’d sooner die than bury you” It was used by mothers in our lineage who were so used to losing their young in war; In my culture, we cannot talk about love without speaking death’s name

George Abraham, from “Untitled”

[oofpoetry]

love your dirty corners, your stalk-like legs and barrel hips, love all the no and the no and the no that brought you right here, to this moment and love the yes. The yes: the breath that found its way to you, built a home in your blood cells, changed itself to better suit you and for it, tonight, you say: I was made to breathe and move and give, which is to say love. Love. I was made to love.

Sierra DeMulder, from “Tonight in Yoga”

[oofpoetry]

I am so tired of waiting, Aren’t you, For the world to become good And beautiful and kind?

Langston Hughes, from “Tired”

[oofpoetry]

Last night I dreamed of X again. She’s like a stain on my subconscious sheets.   Years ago she penetrated me but though I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed,   I never got her out, but now I’m glad. What I thought was an end turned out to be a middle.   What I thought was a brick wall turned out to be a tunnel.   What I thought was an injustice turned out to be a color of the sky. Outside the youth center, between the liquor store   and the police station, a little dogwood tree is losing its mind; overflowing with blossomfoam,   like a sudsy mug of beer; like a bride ripping off her clothes, dropping snow white petals to the ground in clouds, so Nature’s wastefulness seems quietly obscene.   It’s been doing that all week: making beauty, and throwing it away, and making more.

Tony Hoagland, from “A Color of the Sky”

[oofpoetry]

You will always be the bread and the knife, not to mention the crystal goblet and—somehow—the wine.

Billy Collins, from “Litany”

[oofpoetry]

I want the cottage. I want the green grass and the tomato plants. I want the peace in you; the front porch rocking chair lullaby; our cricket legs rubbing together under the covers. We can’t have it all. I know that, but humor me. We can’t have it all, but we can have most of it.

Caitlyn Siehl, from “Apple Pie Life”

[oofpoetry]

The trees you planted in childhood have grown too heavy. You cannot bring them along. Give yourselves to the air, to what you cannot hold.

Rainer Maria Rilke, “Part One IV”

[oofpoetry]

I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh, And eat well, And grow strong. Tomorrow, I’ll be at the table When company comes. Nobody’ll dare Say to me, ‘Eat in the kitchen,’ Then. Besides, They’ll see how beautiful I am And be ashamed— I, too, am America.

Langston Hughes, “I, Too”

[oofpoetry]

Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.

Kahlil Gibran

[oofpoetry]

#metoo

the sum of our suffering our collective shame will never be enough for those whose eyes are tightly closed to the sins of this world against the innocent for them the totality of this ceaseless war is nothing more than a political statement an unfounded protest misplaced anger a laughable hashtag phrase they silence our voices by shaming the victims of violence and rage it’s as if they think we sought their praise but when I heard their taunts it didn’t matter, somehow, I knew the most courageous thing that a victim can do is to stand up for those who can no longer speak and claim to the world #metoo

Ranjini Malhotra

[oofpoetry]

but everyone had this patina of slightly bruised longing, this shimmer of I think I knew you when we were children, this look of I’ve loved you ever since you were born and probably longer than that

Paul Hostovsky, from “Everyone was Beautiful”