TRINITY, THE POEM

Intergenerational Parenting

by Trinity

Fear dictates most of our lives.

I see it in black mothers the most.

When they grab the switch,

it’s because they were never taught 

how to efficiently discipline 

their children. 

All they know 

is how to beat and make bleed

their kids into submission.

They’re just keeping up with the tradition.

Practicing what was passed down to them

because we us still harbor the fear 

our ancestors had in their blood.

Intergenerational trauma is inheriting 

survival tactics that we never needed 

in the first place.

What is ironic, is how the tables have turned.

We laugh at white people for their 

holistic parenting methods 

but refuse talk to our parents for 

all the times they whooped us with extension cords.

I wonder if we will we forever suffer 

from the backends of slavery.

Unlearning trauma 

and breaking generational curses 

is one of the hardest things to do 

but the payoff is immaculate.

Fear only exists if we allow it to.

By choosing a softer path we chose ourselves.

We choose everyone that came before 

or will come after us.

And isn’t that enough.

The Florist & Her Flower

by Trinity

When she kisses me

it feels like I am the flower 

freshly plucked from the soil 

and that she is the florist trying to keep me alive.

If I hadn’t spent most of the relationship 

with rose-colored glasses on,

I would have questioned why she’d taken me 

out my environment sooner.

My first love was manipulative.

She’d place me in a pot 

and then leave me to die on a windowsill.

I’ve grown to have a bad memory because of the trauma.

I’d watch her walk in and out so many times 

it felt like I was the one getting my hands dirty.

She loved to watch me wilt 

but every time I bloomed without her, she’d be angry.

Defensive.

Jealous.

The only time she’d kiss me first 

was when she did something wrong,

which was all the time.

I spent four seasons transitioning for her 

and in the end 

it still wasn’t enough.

Stereotype

by Trinity

A widely accepted, preconceived idea or image of a type of person or thing. 

e.g. the officer handcuffs my best friend and asks, “You play ball, boy?”

I am Your Favorite Coping Mechanism

by Trinity

It’s happening again. 

I like this girl who probably thinks of someone else when we fuck. 

When will I stop being a rebound for these women? 

When will they stop looking in my eyes and seeing someone else?