I am outside with the boys, grounded for a moment by the last vodka shot. There’s Stephen, who usually doesn’t come to my hang out...

It is biting cold in front of the Family Court.

 A year ago, if you had told me that I would be standing here today, about to petition ...

To the memory of my father buried in Petit-Goâve Of all the poems in my first collection, Cris de colère, Chants d’espoir, Cries of...

No matter how long or dark the night, he recognized a passerby by the shuffle of the feet, the rustle of the clothes, the sway of...

When my brother came out of the womb on a month of July, Papa looked at him closely with a grimace.

Because Mama cannot hear and because she talks nonsense everytime she opens her mouth Everyone avoids her

My grandmother taught me Kreyòl. You must know where you come from, so you understand where you’re going, she said. Kreyòl: an open door to