poem

by Liz Femi

it’s not like I’m doing anything at the moment
 
 not until I soothe my daughter after the hot iron sears her temples
 

till then we can talk coffin colors
 
  i’ll go first

moon red

because the last thing I’m doing after dying is lying

about how much I don’t want to even when I’m six feet under

rise

Liz Femi is a Nigerian-American writer, actor, and an NAACP Theater Award Nominee for her solo play, Take Me to the Poorhouse. A recipient of Writeability’s Right to Write Award, her work has been featured in The Harvard African and performed at the Rogue Machine Theatre’s Rant and Rave. She’s based in Los Angeles and Atlanta and has been published in Wild Roof Journal, Stone Poetry Quarterly, Streetlight Magazine, West Trade Review, and The MacGuffin.