by Maiya Joy
there are not enough words
to write my family into existence,
not enough characters on a page
nor lines in an iliad or words in a
dictionary to describe the ways
in which we ebb and flow,
the ways that our conversations
animate out of our chests and
manifest into our ancestors, playing
their histories over and over and over
until they are spoken into reality;
at our reunions, we take panoramas
to capture each and every face,
squeezing on each side into tight margins
to make enough room for the family
whose bodies have long disappeared
but whose stories demand more space
than their breaths were ever granted.
Maia Joy is a queer biracial poet and musician from Boston, MA. A two-time Silver Key recipient from the Massachusetts Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, she is currently studying music and creative writing at the University of Maryland, College Park, where she is a member of the Jimenez-Porter Writers’ House. Some of her work can be found in Star 82 Review and Dreams Walking, as well as on her social media @maiajoyspeaks, and her website, maiajoyspeaks.wixsite.com/website.
