Poetry by Khalisa Rae
Updated: Aug 13
Sky- Scraper Women
All around me women are brick
laying. Hands filthy from mortar,
fingernails red from clay packed
together to mold their fortress.
Each level a stepping stone
to climb higher and leave
this humble ground behind. Each
wall evidence their army has grown stronger. But I crave the simple
mud and seed,
the promise of solid earth beneath my feet. I need the exposed,
fertile soil surrounding me,
need to see my branches sprout
in open field- a reminder
I have room to grow.
I prefer my oak tree to their skyscraper.
We are not live wires; being grounded
is a good thing.
Khalisa Rae (she/her) is a native of North Carolina and is a graduate of the Queens University MFA program. Her recent work has been seen in Damaged Goods, Terse, Sundog Lit, Crab Fat, Glass Poetry, Luna, Luna, Brave Voices, Hellebore, Honey & Lime, Tishman Review, the Obsidian, Anchor Magazine, among others. She was a finalist in the Furious Flower Gwendolyn Brooks Poetry Prize, winner of the Fem Lit Magazine Contest, and White Stag Publishing Contest. She is Consulting Editor for Kissing Dynamite. Her forthcoming collection, Ghost in a Black Girls Throat is forthcoming from Red Hen Press and White Stag in 2021. She is also the newest Managing Equity and Inclusion Editor of Carve Magazine.