Poems here,
In unwashed bed sheets
And ricocheting heartbeats,
Stuffed in back closets
With black claws and wits
So sharp they will slice your tongue
When you try to tell them.

Try to tell them anyway.
The monsters only win when we stop talking.
Keep walking.
Let every step you take be an act of defiance
Against those who would paralyze you
From the waist down.

Poems here,
In pawned engagement rings
And pairs of converse caught on electric lines
Swinging from their shoestrings.
We are all stories.
So if I crack you open along your spine,
Let you fall to your most vulnerable pages,
What will your body tell me?
What secrets does it hold?

I am told
Poets are antiquated folk,
Holding onto dead art like rotting flowers
Cling to gravestones.
Know this:
You are sets of fire-bleeding bones.
You breathe life into dead microphones.
Your words ignite a flame in my own
Together, our hearts skip the same beat.

Poems here,
In unkempt city streets
And university enrollment spreadsheets,
In the corners of our eyes,
In dank, dust-collecting spaces to
Surprise us during cleaning season.

They are patient.
They will sit for years,
Standing by for the storyteller who will one day
And see.


Photography © Allison Goldin

Photography © Allison Goldin


Jenna Rodrigues is a storyteller, scientist, and advocate for social change. Follow her work at

Allison Goldin is an artist living in Cambridge. Her work is a collection of spontaneous drawings from the imagination. The most common link throughout her art are the semi-recognizable creatures scattered amongst and bringing together the surrounding doodles. She is currently studying Illustration at The School of Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.