Love in Colonial Terms

a poem from the 11th Arrondisment

I take two sugar packets

for this sweet memory

sip my espresso

and steamed oatmilk

I am in the city of love

my love in the room

above me

Photo by Guillaume Didelet on Unsplash

it feel like a fever/dream

all this slow freedom coursing

through my veins

as if we ain’t dead in the middle

of a colonizer’s den