On nights, the moon is much too lovely
to ignore and my room becomes a
cocoon that stuffs and suffocates,
I take a walk.
I’m looking for the lady whose skin
turns blue in the moonlight.
After two croaks, I see her
in all her antediluvian glory.
Suede Clarks, Anita Baker crooning
from the record player,
a devoted night routine to the moon.
She has me transfixed in space,
time and retrograde.
My whole body is humming
whatever tune that’s so wonderfully
placed around her lips.
Oh, how I envy that song.
I, too, long to be a thing in her mouth.
Kay-Ann Henry is a journalist and poet currently studying journalism, creative writing, and sociology at the University of Miami. She is originally from Kingston, Jamaica, and migrated to Miami when she was 14. She started writing as a fun way to exercise language and has moved to realize poetry as a space to activate healing childhood and ancestral trauma. When she isn’t writing poems and journal entries, she is working with feminist and abolitionist activist organizations throughout Miami to contribute to the freedom of Black, immigrant, and queer folks like herself.