When your spunk
has grown like wild sassafras,
That’s when you know you’ve made it

When your words drip
from your lips like honey,
But bite like a carolina reaper
That’s when you know you’ve found your voice

Dancing to your own drum is a learned practice,
and I pray that one day
You have your own jubilee

Gyrate with the freedom of your audacity

___
Regine Jackson (she/her) is a writer in Springfield, Massachusetts. While Jackson mainly writes short stories within the science fiction, horror, and fantasy genres, she also writes poetry and prose about life in an inner-city. Jackson hopes to not only hone her own craft but to bring more creative work to her inner city. Find more information at reginejackson.com or @theflimsyquill on Instagram.