Evolet Powell Poems

You ask me, could I live
If I lost half my blood
And half my head?
...

Her time to shine: the 5th
hour of the year gleams
like a golden sun ready to radiate,
permeate, Her roots
...

When giddy laughs turn hushed
and skins are flushed with blood
your fingernails clink
on the same glass I clutch.
...

O mother, do not fret
of this mound pound of iron
in which your proud son in green
shall depart
...