There are times my fingers get picky with food.
A spoon poles and rubs my teeth and
They gear each other and make words forget position.
Boredom gets bored
When news pay homage to me at media joints and a congregation I never meet
Come forth and go hungry and nourish their hands.
I don’t leave anything.
I cursor with some people
Who like to cursor others,
Who leave their own grimes after quenching on someone else’s business..
Shame leaves me
And I bend like some other backs
That sound their tongue over trivialities.
There are times my lips refuse to spread
On their own.
Someone else’s business isn’t always worthwhile and denies me sound to echo.
Like the nights affection escape meaning from me. I act two roles in one scenario and
My fingers abolish the right to speak.
I become the judge and advocate.
I try to think
I don’t leave any mark.
Air whips sympathy out of me when I see grimes that leave footprints on devastation
And I cursor by like there is nothing my hands can do about other people’s hands.
Empathy is I’d rather walk in your shoes
Than remember bodies walk lines on sands.
I like to think
Treading in shoes without leaving my hands behind lightens my sins.
*Media joints e.g twitter
Fakoya Salamot is a 17 year old female poet writing from Texas. Her recent work was published in Riverbird magazine.