Water, by Snousha Glaude


water swivels into the groves of mother earth’s spine

buoys silently spectate

i do not feel princess-like wearing this glitter
blinded, salty surrender

lace collars crocheted from spindles of foam
stomach cramping,
intestines crunched into submission

fingers claw at merciless winds
air seeping, escaping

toes caress abrasive sand
disgruntled shells,
buried dunes

black blood seeks refuge in indigo oceans
buoys pray, swagging leftward and right
lungs at the disposal of jagged seas
failure scurries beneath my tongue

Now tell me, what do your tears taste like


Snousha Glaude was born in Orlando, Florida and enjoyed her formative years along the coasts of Southwest, Florida and the Caribbean. She earned her Bachelors of Liberal Arts at the New College of Florida. She has opened for the likes of Andrea Gibson, Andrew Gillum, Irie Givens, and more. When she is not writing or performing poetry, she can be found developing curricula for the wellness community Plants Ou La La, blogging on Medium.com (@plantsoulala), and tending to trees in her community as a freelance ISA Certified arborist. She is the author of Sometimes It Rains: Poems on Liberation and Rebirth, available on Amazon, and resides in Orlando.

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