he calls me rebel
calls me radical
calls me fool
I call him coward
I call him lazy
I call him cruel
but only in my head
the words die on my tongue
I mumble a eulogy
over my teacup
it’s considered unprofessional
to hold funerals
for the parts of yourself
you’ve buried in the name
of being a “good academic”
Resurrect them.
dig out the embers
use them to light torches
and burn down the crematorium
build brick from the ashes,
build a new home,
decorate with lilies
As a political theorist, a lot of my work often centers on how we live under the conditions of structural inequality. My poetry allows me to explore new answers, and I often return to themes of creation, trauma, and reconciliation. I’m interested in how art and aesthetics allow us to explore new possibilities without the pressure of having all the answers. In this way, my political work and my artwork are two sides of the same coin.