Honora Ankong
Today I have grief for breakfast— reach my tongue

out of my mouth & lick

my own tears. I’m keeping the whole      of me.

I call up a friend and we talk about black

woman paradise— somewhere between starshine

& clay.


We lay there undead                             rest in the peace of knowing

nothing here wants us unalive. Today I want to play Thee Stallion

but play Nina instead   miss Simone hums something about hanging

fruit bodies. She harvests me                         kisses the noose burns off my neck.


Today           I get my acrylics real long: stiletto neon green— strut

out of the nail salon      grinning at admirers     yeah I’m alive

& blooming. I fashion my mouth

to shoot arrows:

No— you can’t have my body         no— I’ll die on my own terms.


I still ain’t learned to swim but I’m bikini clad sipping

on something fruity

& sweet     getting all parts of me wet. I take two

lovers to bed— the three of us        tangled into a black

church. We worship our god loud & unashamed       she’s a living

god   we are living       we are alive with mouths agape in want.

Today I am a black woman venerated     being loved out loud

& I’m loving black women   back to life.


Loving black women back

to life         today I’m loud in my veneration.

I am a black woman in want

mouth agape       yelling we are alive      we are living       god!

We are alive

& unashamed            worship a tangled worship.

We bloom into a green thing          a church of three & all parts

of us are wet                             yeah, we’re alive & grinning

our mouths into arrow-words:

Yes— you can have our bodies            no— we’ll die on our own terms.


Today I’m all neck—   a hanging fruit body

reaching for miss Simone      & Thee Stallion


is there too       rapping something about being sweet

like suga    & we’re all undead. We’re three    & naked     covered in starshine

& clay

we are black    we are black women   we are black women in black woman

paradise           alive & whole. Today          we are whole

reach our tongues out of our mouths        lick our own tears.
from the journal THE MAINE REVIEW
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"'Grief for Breakfast' was inspired by a conversation a friend and I had during the recent Black Lives Matter protests. We imagined a 'Black womxn paradise,' a place where we could exist free from grief. A place where we could love and be loved out loud. A place where we could reclaim agency over our bodies and our existence. This poem is an obverse—a poetic form created by the poet Nicole Sealey."

Honora Ankong on "Grief for Breakfast: An Obverse" 
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17th Annual Palm Beach Poetry Festival
January 18-23, 2021

We are pledged to create an extraordinary week of virtual poetry workshops and events for you in the safety of your home. Workshop Faculty: David Baker, Laure-Anne Bosselaar, Traci Brimhall, Eduardo C. Corral, Vievee Francis, Kevin Prufer, Martha Rhodes & Tim Seibles, and more! Apply today!
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"Michael Kleber-Diggs Wins 2020 Max Ritvo Poetry Prize"

Judge Henri Cole noted, "He gives voice to the experiences and aspirations of middle-class Black America, and though the promised land is faraway, he finds grace in the natural world, long marriage, and fathering. These supple, socially responsible poems seem to me a triumphant, paradoxical, luminous response to a violent time in our history."

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"What is a weed in one cultural context is medicine or food in another; what is invasive in one ecosystem is native to another; and plants, like matter, as William James would wisely say, have no ideals. What I brought to the Star Thistle was what Adam Phillips in his marvelous book Darwin’s Worms would call the problem of grieving in a secular age."
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