la louve à la lune ǀ the wolf to the moon
Original works of poetry, fiction, creative non-fiction and essays by A. M. Wilsonne
Hope To reach for hope To hold onto it sometimes it's like clutching an ice cube, or two But if I keep holding the ice-cold, tight in a warm grip, It will thaw. If I hold onto what will inevitably be-- just wait, wait: relief release God, give us the power to forgive, to thaw... Continue Reading →
When it doesn't work. Because we are different. In ways that are utter extremes. You wanted more of something I could not give. I wanted more of something you could not believe. A brief together. followed by. An indefinite separation. O. If I could have even just a bit of you. Every now and then.... Continue Reading →
Les hommes? Les hommes me blessent. Ils me blessent d'une douleur vive qui me pèsent le cœur d'un poids qui ne ressemble à aucun autre. comme je suis piquée juste à côté du fond du cœur par un couteau. Le sang coule Le liquide ne s'échappant pas de ma poitrine. Y'a de la pression qui... Continue Reading →
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=muWujslDNcw musty Sundays by the river's bank, we catch the breezes, letting snarls of laughter hiccup o’er lapping ripples from the boats shade sighs here and there in speckles ‘bove our sun-bleached locks while runners’ steps give rhythm to ever rustling green in this hot air sweat forms beads along my back bone, at least while... Continue Reading →
Something regurgitated To my memory I suppose I cannot hide The nature of my sentiments Toward it It regurgitated But no, I do not expel I hide The sour reminder I keep it in my spirit In- voluntary confinement Paralyzed between Shame--pride And the unpleasant consequence Of attempt to swallow it back Down into The... Continue Reading →
la louve à la lune ǀ the wolf to the moon 