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But I cannot lose the hope that someday, all of us will be regarded as equal, and King’s famous dream will become a reality.

If there are infinite universes, / there is one in which my daughter never turns / blue.

I held you when you were a baby, / the smallest particle in my universe

Watch the water drip and shine / from our fingers.

I am teaching my son / the art / of touching / a woman / or man

All day I hear this version / of the alphabet.

She carries the dark seed / sown in her tiny wrinkled brain / before she was born.

Your children ask for their birth stories / and you sew a more dazzling quilt each time.

“Grimoire hones in on maternal health and labor—the physical and psychic work it takes to bear and rear Black children.”

When she was an infant, I would cup her tiny feet in my hands, close my fingers around them, and make them disappear.

The tiny house has a force field around it, because it must.