Devonne Brown

Photo by Tasha Marie

To be or not to be. 

fall, flail, or fly?

Ribs tight and hard, stomach in knots. 

I don’t even see the setting sun, there are no colors left in the grey of dusk. 

The ocean laps and pounds the jutting rock on which I stand. 

I pull my hair to try to get an anchor. To feel something, but nothing comes to mind.

To be or not to be.

 fall, flail, or fly?

The ocean bleeds the color from my face then anger floods it red again, 

the feeling comes in waves

Salty tears.

I clutch my shoes like a totem, they are life if I put them back on

I am incapable of speech, so I scream to no one but the ocean smacking the rock under my feet

Splashing, crusting my legs like tears 

My mouth trembles

Still no words

To be or not to be.

fall, flail, or fly?

I’ve run as far as I can run.