Article voiceover
i love my weight. these
folds singspill over —
well, ain’t love heavy?
ain’t love something you
can hold with both hands and know?
ain’t it a tender thing?
my weight loves my lonely,
gives her a dress made of gold
keeps her safe and sings,
you do not have to
rush, or run, in some
ill-fitting shadow.
the body is a
prayer. in Southern heat, the
shape of a Heaven
felt by the Sun. some
soft vessel made of water.
Can God still be good
enough for me to see
My loved ones say grace? Laugh
loud enough to reach
Heaven? Or, this: My
heavy body, holding love for
versions of me that sing —
Ain’t it a tender thing?
Radiant, Heavy, and Green
is the body that gives,
that knows, that holds its
shape around the weight of this
Heaven of red clay.
oh my gosh ❤️every word is divine and purposeful and the form is impeccable. this poem literally cannot be read just once, it descends into such a graceful thing. thank you for sharing
oh, lav….this was a perfect offering. your cadence, the imagery, the comfort held in the softness of your voice. my god, you and your work are something sweet, my friend. I'm excited to see what you continue to serve up📿🧿🫂🤎