YOUNG ADULT Poem: ars jamecharlesa, by Maya Dotson

a poem is like watching james charles.
“hey sisters,”
echoes in my mind.

i hear his voice,
whenever i write a poem.
i hear his whispers,
his songs.

i feel the hair of his makeup brushes,
which stand there,
unattended.

i see his bright eyeshadow,
his red lips.
i see his lip gloss,

the tone of his child predatoriness,
which passes by,
without a sound.

it’s as if a poem,
with it’s whispers and screams,
all in one.

his failures pass him by,
as his successes land him on the red carpet.

a red carpet,
filled by words,
makeup,
and stupidity.

it’s an representation of humanity,
of thought,
you would never have a poem,
if there was never a james charles.