what do we name the space between two goodbyes?

did anyone even hear you open the door?

i love the click-quiet fact that you never left,
a halted breath, non-existently still
in the choice to neither stay nor go

(but to be alive is in the dance,
a sacred risk of movement
)

you want to remain to me this miraculous
transcendence of death
(i can tell you do
because i stopped waiting
for the sorrow to come/

and air split
skirts around you,
stuck in the back of my throat,
an overdressed
under expressed farewell)

i am alive. you are
swallowed by light, pale, sculpted
beautifully still
we stare,

caught
in the liminal,
between a move forward and
a step back.

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Posted in absence, affirmation, black art, nostalgia, poetry, revolution, spiritual, true life | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

the end of a thing unfinished

where does this poem go?
jagged unalliterated edge of phrases
with no rhythm/ forces tongues
into offbeat dancers, hollerers
of visual falsehoods from poetry
beneath overly sharpened pencils,
unfinished as potential pregnancy/ uterine
wall without a sperm cell
to house burst into a cave of
cramped forgetfulness and choice.
Period.

-Stevie Ambroise

*i literally have no idea what this piece is about.
maybe it’s about myself. i have no idea where i or
this piece is going.

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poker chip

pushed peace towards you
like a poker chip,
counted the heart flutters between
your left brows liftoff
from baseline to peak, risk-
assessing my mouth-
opened gamble

then you, touching the chip, laughed
my crossed legs onto the ground,
too knocked by the hard shove of your
own amusement
to see my stand.

“that all you have left
to offer?”

but i had already taken myself,
and walked away.

-Stevie Ambroise

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sheer tights

she wrote a song/
about death, death was sheer tights/
decorated with tears she pulled/
to birth holes on the sides/
of her calves. tights/
she still wore, wore, wore/
downtown to spin around in,/
among stares/
descending/

her

body.

.
.
.
.

songs about death.
to the harmony of the incessant
ringing in her ears,
the never-ending melody
that is the after-echo
of goodbyes.

-Stevie Ambroise

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All Because I Thought You Looked Like Wisdom

You’re the latest love to turn me to a poem,
after time and trauma stoppered Understanding

too weak to lift rhythm
from the the waving hands of the word
“waist” (or was it waste), which
type of time tripped me up and caught me

like a baby, shrunken too small
by rebirth to comprehend prison
for the sake of precaution, as I watch words,
mobile, fall from the ceiling before I sleep?

they never land on me
i never taste them

for when I dream I chase
because I am a grown man
who is an elderly woman
who feels like a teenager

and you are a pickup
(or a dump) trucking along

and my heart is a filling moon-sliver of a
fingernail, drawing blood from bumper,
destined to never rip, even
as the force and direction of your speed
and the gravelly inertia of your “no”,
leaves me to flap in the wind,
skinned raw swaddled in tears

all because I thought you looked like wisdom.

-Stevie

Posted in absence, affirmation, black art, diary, goddess, love, nostalgia, observance, poetry, revolution, self-love, spiritual | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

5 until the end of days (la loteria, mi amiguita)

If I were to scratch at my desire for you,
what would be found beneath that?
I found a single lady, for loneliness,
and 15 cents.

But to scratch at the joy I feel when with you, to let
my fingers dance across the simple square that is
the space of you, I find the sun, and your smile,
and every cents.

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4 until the end of days

Your wooden wind-chime laughter
showers the back of my neck, and
I am soothed.

You are the anticipation of warm summer rain
polluted with crashes of thick white lightning,
you are near-death experiences in the ocean, that
first breath of success when fingertip touch shore,
you are the embrace of all I love that reminds me
to fight to be alive, to fight against numbness,
to try one more time, again and again.

You make me stronger than my fear of that one day,
my essence, in it’s final journey from this body
to another realm and the start of another rich,
immersive experience, sweetened with the eventual
arrival of you.

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