Spiritual baddie with a hard attitude // fingers locked, pen curved, lips pressed together. // anger darts before my eyes, across words, into my hands// fists ready to break the page // solo armor, solo armor, solo armor // I mothered myself // caused "I sing for Atabey's succor." // benevolent and honorable ancestors, and spirits // hear this prayer; // "Writing is a lover // that I danced with // before my conception. // this is my solo armor. // let it stay and please keep me okay."
