I found my mom in the kitchen cooking,
she has spent a 5th of her life in the
kitchen, if you thoroughly count all of the
minutes; the cassava leaf is steaming,
my sister is on the phone telling her happy
Mother’s Day, they have grown too closed
over the last few years, and now have a girls
trip to Mexico. But I cannot get over the
fact that I found my mom in the kitchen
cooking, and yes, it is 7 am on Mother’s

For Nay, Elizabeth Nay Williams

Death, the agony of leaving behind
everything you have built for a potential
beginning; (unfair). Death, the trauma of
ceasing to exist within a body you have
attached your identity to; (madness).
Death, the unimaginable pain of never
seeing your loved ones again; (tragic).
Poetry, linking memories from saying
happy Mother’s Day through words from
one age to the next; (my truce).

Siamese Twins

There was a time, a time where I saw the
world from mathematical senses, senses
that questioned everything, especially
God. Back then, life was a little simpler,
school, college, law school,
representative, senator, president, president;
we had a plan, an intelligent design, but the
signs have always been there, I see them
whenever I think of the past. I see them
over and over again. I see them wherever I
look. I see them, and then I see me. I see
myself, and then I see us. Madness has
always been, always been the fate.