Devour

She is addicted
to the hunt:
adrenaline fanned out

past cheekbones = encircles
what desire   s  h   i   t   s
after large meals

and since eating
is routine this
cycle continues. Her

stance wide, arms
straight angle, bow
cocked—the release

fulfilling like supple
mouth slurp contented
gluttony, the devoured

never realize swallow
until feet bottom
out: the fall

feels like ifẹ.

Conjure Black

Like a love jones
stuck between her tits
and sweat.

Like rippled flesh swung
twilight dark and noose
against son(s)daughter(s).

Like silence poked
holes in her lungs
another collapse.

Like whirlwind: say it
back, exhale her next
aerolith. Suspect.

Imani Sims

Imani Sims is a spicy Chai tea loving Seattle native who spun her first performance poem at the age of fourteen. She believes in the healing power of words and the transformational nuance of the human story. Imani works to empower youth and adults through various writing courses and interdisciplinary shows all over the nation. She is a 2016 Artist Trust and CityArtist Grant recipient, Central District Forum for Arts and Ideas curator, and Gay City Arts Fellow where she brought Afrofuturism and Performance Art together for eight shows. Her book (A)live Heart is available on Sibling Rivalry Press.

@irsims
@7eights

Photograph by Christie MacLean

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