Kyla Pasha | Poetry

If you were not looking, I would not
be here. Caught in the cross
fire of defiance and desperation, I
am poet, sorry I am poet, speaking
my own demons like they’re yours,
my own anger like it scores an
orange alert on the universal
terror scale. You should be worried,
I want to say, but words
open and close at the behest of
clicking fingers and I
am small. My friend, I am small.

If you were not looking, I would
almost have nothing to say.

Defiance and desperation, fuck you
but please listen – this pain, bear
witness, this is flesh that’s bruised, this
is blood this is the news of my life, Listen.

I am not your bastion, I am not
court jester, I am not a man
with teachings, I am not
an open wound. You are not
my therapy. Sorry but I am
a poet and these are my words
and you have words and you have bruises
and this is a fire between us now.

Sit. See us
warming our hands.