After photos by Brian Kaufman 

by jessica Care moore


You must wonder where the humans
                                         have gone.

Our vision, a  blurry blues behind a shy moon.
An indifferent burst of purple & yellow  light 

We exist.

As you continue to blossom life, affirm the new day.

Uncoiling your beautiful limbs, expanding  black & orange wings 
Against a turquoise sky. 

A necessary  crack in the stone, 
Spilling into lake 
forced to flower. 

A reflection of a people.
A constellation of questions

We wonder at your wonder.
As invisible fires full of stories  burn deep into a night sky
Deeply rooted, buried inside the core of  our planet
As you continue to show us 
how to transform                      a universe of rooms. 

Radiant signs of life.
Courageous greens, petaled hands of peace
Camouflaged as haiku-ed sunsets 

You show up &  defy odds
bloom into a symphony of colors

Oh! How thousands of tears have joined with this familiar rain
to water our possibility 
How you push through bitterness, 
      confusion and climate change.

Still, so still – we hear every song, every wind wrestling with our 
Sugar  Maples, Hemlocks. Our tall oaks, red as dawn.

We contemplate our next season with anxiety, with uncertainty. 

Change is a necessary sound.  

You are not silent as you take over the forest, the backyard, 

Our comfort zones. 

Delicate and fearless.

How we envy your  ability to grow 
Even when the foundation is unleveled 

How you shake loose all expectation
Embody a song of  freedom inside the harps &  strings 
Spines & bones & rubbery flesh of 
Small, incredible creatures.  

Fierce Eagles facing their own mirrors 
We are a reflection of your power.

Resilient Spring! 

The beautiful       in between 
The rise before     the Fall.

We need your grace.

               Now,  more than ever.  




Poem copyright 2020 by jessica Care moore. All rights reserved.

See more poems from  jessica Care moore debuted on The Fight & The Fiddle: Define Safety,” and “Ramadan 20 Vs COVID-19.”


Read more in this issue: Interview | Critical Review | Writing Prompt


(Isolation Poem #3)

by jessica Care moore

Mornings are so heavy
Birds & Silence
Tea whistle on repeat

Isolation is not always
a safe place

I know little girls wishing
For wings, now.

Women who can’t escape
Violence by staying in, anymore

The birds know all
Singing is an act of survival

This mourning, is heavy
Silence cuts the air, thin as needle

Searching for an opening.





Poem copyright 2020 by jessica Care moore. All rights reserved.


See two more poems from jessica Care moore debuted on The Fight & The Fiddle: Resilient Spring”  and  “Ramadan 20 Vs COVID-19

Read more in this issue: Interview | Critical Essay | Writing Prompt


jessica Care moore’s newest book centers around a demand: “We Want Our Bodies Back,” in which she names the ways in which Black women’s bodies have historically and are currently coopted, abused and degraded. She names slavery, the disappearance of Black girls, the wanton murder of Black women’s families as specific injustices enacted on her as a Black woman and the poem is a demand that these be acknowledged and remedied. Write a poem in which you call out a specific injustice — name its roots, its faces, its manifestations, its harms — and then demand the change that you believe would effect justice and repair.

Read more in this issue: Interview | Critical Review | Poems

by jessica Care moore 

(On the first day of Ramadan, April 23, 2020)

There are millions
Of reasons to fast

Three of my girlfriends are expecting

The Jesus children
wearing rosaries round their necks
Praying death will leave salt city

The news repeats itself, therefore, is
No longer news

We, right across the street from Lebanon
We tout the biggest masjid in the country

We have always removed shoes
Before entering our sacred homes
Wujud our bodies clean beyond 20 seconds

Detroit hijab wrapped covered beauties
Watching them all  rocking burkas, now

The projects remain the cleanest kitchens
Smells of Clorox Bleach and metal ironing boards
Creased into our daily routines

Cleanliness is next to Godliness
Sunday best     Friday is Jumah

We all praying to any ancestor
Still listening

Smiles taste like tears
Songbirds begin at 4am

My friend has lost her mother
& Aunt             My best friend, her sister

I am brushing off the dust of my red prayer mat
Listening to Jon McReynolds and Kirk Franklin
I need everyone

Even black Jesus
to help get  us all through this

Yes, race still matters

We are not people of color
In Detroit, we are black

Upsouth people

Ma Sha Allah
Ma Sha Allah

The call to prayer is louder
Than the death toll

The call to prayer never silenced

We never die anyway
Abiodun Oyewole  reminded us
We return, we move on, we become

Psalms 23 won’t finish the day
The clocks are flying across the room

Which day is it
Whatever day you feel
Is necessary for right now   Pick one.

Which day do you feel the most beautiful

What else to do with this time
‘Cept tell somebody it happened

We were alive when the world stood still

Mahogany, Ryan and Randi
Are all pregnant during a pandemic

These resilient babies won’t stop
For outbreaks   Wait for it to end

Life continues

Even when we decide it is over
When humanity is finally white flagged
& all the oxygen from the Amazon
Is bottled and taxed like new shoes

The magnolia tree will still blossom
The same time every year in the backyard

All those thick colossal roots laughing
At our fragile bones

How we climb, how we dream
To be so bold as you

How our arms shadow your branches
How we wish to be songbirds worthy
Of your protection

The playing field is not playing
Nature is calling   Science is searching

But spirit has this all figured out
And it’s not in any of those books
Made from dead trees

Faith is not a word    It’s knowing

Belief that there is something absolutely
Beyond this place

Something that will heal the wounds
Inflicted on a continent

Sami Allahu liman hamidah  

Praying 5 times a day
May not be enough

To purge the sins against the
womb of the earth
against the hungry bellies of
The chosen people

Fasting may be the only way
To clear out the noise

The sirens the gunshots the lies

No distance
Between faiths anymore
Pick a book, any holy book

We all die in the same position
Legs spread open, mothers pushing out
the next  tomorrow

It doesn’t matter
how we die

Or at what speed

It only matters
what we are willing to die for

Let it be for the first cries
Let it be so the world is made





Poem copyright 2020 by jessica Care moore. All rights reserved.

See more poems from  jessica Care moore debuted on The Fight & The Fiddle: Define Safety,” and “Resilient Spring.”


Read more in this issue: Interview | Critical Review | Writing Prompt