Brittny Ray Crowell is a native of Texarkana, TX with a BA in English from Spelman College and an MA in English from Texas A&M-Texarkana. She recently was awarded the Inprint Donald Barthelme Prize in Poetry and her work has been published or forthcoming in The West Review, and the anthology Black Lives Have Always Mattered. She is currently a PhD candidate in Creative Writing and Literature at the University of Houston.

Poets Resist
Edited by Sandra L. Faulkner
June 10, 2020

Brittny Ray Crowell

Universal Grammar

yes, children, it does mean empty, too and I wish I could take back what I taught you before that we could just once escape the clutches of context whole the opaque membrane before our eyes unbroken unscathed [de•so•late]: adj 1.devoid: like your grandmother’s house after the brother you loved hurled his father’s body to the ground like a palm’s worth of salt thrust upon the earth 2. deserted: save for the haints wafting over their graves no one ever expected to have to visit so soon 3. ravaged: sometimes it just seems to appear so benignly, the innocuous exposure of evil slowly emerging from bas-relief, like the hidden punctures of a garment pulled from the closet moth eaten and decimated it means that there are holes here now barren bereft of space presences never to be fixed only missed desolate— may you never come to know its meaning to see it face to face like an unrequited gaze down a casket may its cavern never hover upon your head may you never find yourself abruptly climbing from it black hole anti-halo stony sunken well



Poets Resist is published by Glass Poetry Press.
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