Necee Regis writes about travel, food, and culture for various publications, including The Washington Post, The Boston Globe, American Way Magazine, and Tin House. In the past year, she ate Indian food in Toronto, oysters in Galway, and callaloo soup in Grenada. She spends four months a year in Miami Beach where, no matter how hard she tries, she’ll never be able to dance as well as the locals.
I’d been thinking about leaving. I’d been thinking how there’s something about out here. Before long it’s a new January and you’re hungover with a heartache for a man you won’t see for several years until he pops up on that very popular, critically-acclaimed sitcom with that actress you learned to like, then hate, then feign indifference abou
The leak in your breathing/ tube makes a cartoon squeak./ It takes two nurses, silent/ as nuns, to place you/ in my arms...
If I have already/ gone insane/ but I want to get/ crazier yet,/ what’s my move?/ Go outsane?
See more Poetry, Visual Poetry, or Postcard Prose
