Month: July 2021


And here we end
word chef-ing mixed media whispers with
tears fought in unison after the war

paperback cuts and empty pages to line our
tongues: a vastness, like stale bread
and un-gardened fence lines.

Here we end our story where
it never began: with hollowed sights
and enemy trenches and
bonbonnieres filled with armories
and dartboard calendars

– riding shotgun with fries to go –

carrying anthrax and V-shaped saliva
in white pockets of revenge

bleating our way
between dichotomy and conflict, where,
in this absence of hope we are just
zombies in a dollar bin –
half the value promised
and reduced to clear.

© Tamara Natividad | | Written 3 July, 2021


Enough, as I am.
All of me, a star made of silver upon a chest of self-love,
sherriffing whole as I can whilst empty –
lapelled to this shirt like a butterfly with cotton wings.

© Tamara Natividad | | Written 03 July 2021


There is a power in softness, a rough tremor
weeping through every pore without a
scathing sound – the opacity of white noise
calming the soul with feathery pause.

Release it,
tame at last as passing thunder –
its mane, feline, and gentle,
its belly,
turned upward,
eyes closed.

© Tamara Natividad | | Written 3 July, 2021