"Love," A Poetry Post

A bag of Little Debbie's mini donuts.
Purchased.

A single serving removed.

Consumption.
Time.

A single donut more.
Another.
Time.

A third single donut.
Milk.
Consumption.
Time.

A second serving.
Last bite.
Consumption.
Time.

Milk.
Time.
Reflection.

Consumption.
Consumption.
Consumption.

Weight.

-T. D. James-Moss

"Dese Kids," A Poetry Post

Dese kids ain interested in yo fairytales.

You ain gone tell dese kids dat
college gone make dim
any betta off dan
goin home an
helpin raise dey
momma's kids.

Ain nobody gone
tell dem dat
time heals
all wouns.

Ain nobody got
enough time to
make dese kids believe dat
books an frienships gone
make some kina difference
in dey lives.

If you want dey attention,
you tell dese kids dat
dey can truss you,
dat dey can truss you wit the worl
dey carry on dey shouldas.

Let dem put dey
burden down on yo
mahogoney des.

Show em how to
shift dat weight.

Demonstrate,
cuz dese kids ain tryin to hear
NOTHIN
from NOBODY
who AIN HAT TA CARRY
SOMETHING HEAVIER
DAN DEMSELVES!

-T.D. James-Moss

"Deep Things," A Poetry Post

Don't write me deep things about
love and loss and
disappointments.

Give it to me straight.

Say that you spent long nights
crying about
things that
didn't matter
two nights
later.

Say that you almost got a
divorce.

Say that you spent all of
your money on
race horses.

Say that you drove your mother
insane with your
constant dissembling.

Say that you were a louse of all lice,
that you stole,
that you broke hearts,
that you hated,
that you loved the wrong way,
that you were a mess.

Say that.

Say that I can screw up all those things and still
be
somebody.

Remind me that I am human.

-T.D. James-Moss