Confessions of a Human Nerve Ending

This morning, I wanted to write a poem that celebrated you, that lifted you up-- strong shouldered words. Sky held up by long cottonwood branches, but today is Rosa Parks' day. This morning, I wanted to write a poem that celebrated you, that took your hand. This is your creation, your dream. You’ve created a world where we treat each other better, Dream a world that no longer makes our desires yours. But today, my sister cracked a case that brought a serial rapist into court, He sat, alone, staring at a blank wall, shivering and afraid. My sister: all five foot two inches and one fifteen clicks open her pen. “So why did we find your DNA where we did?” This morning, I wanted to write a poem that celebrated you-- my grandmother, toddler father in her arms, kicking at the collapsed coal vein uncovering my grandfather, (back broken) and kept him awake while neighbors ran for help. She’d tend to 3 kids while he recovered, continue farming,...