For Grace Jones (And all those who model themselves after)

She never knew what color to dip her fingertips. Most days she felt magenta’d under belly and indigo’d soles, eyes fast lit chartreuse and teal lip. Unlike a rainbow, mostly electric. Imani Sims is a spicy Chai tea–loving Seattle native who spun her first performance poem at the age of fourteen. She believes in the healing power of words…

On My Way to Grandmother’s House

I. Sometimes we tuck ourselves inside and remind our younger self that she is safe. Sometimes we encounter the wolf and she is not. II. I think I understand why she carried a basket, a girl has got to have somewhere to store her shattered bits, after the wolf ambushes her in the woods. III….