So happy to have discovered the work of the talented poet Stephanie Ambroise. The work is visceral and exciting, full of compelling imagery and original ideas; refreshing yet darkly (and joyously so) introspective. But don’t take my word for it……

preaches from the writer’s block

i am not a poet.
the creases in my fingers
do not exist
to bend
to the whim of my heart’s need
to expel verbal aesthetics,
my hand is at rest,
the lines on my knuckles
are not river or blood beds,
nor are they hierohlyphic
messages from ancestors


some days, the world kicks my
knee-caps so i can fall asleep. here the air
tastes like mango juice cheek leaks at 104 degrees
and i wake in want of this dream’s origins,
taste the air of some forbidden place,
and not write.

if heavens scribed haiti onto this earth,
just so my people can stand on this split glyph with
split hearts thunder split atmospheres
and with split tongues, spin and weave songs
of faith to keep at bay a naked reality of loneliness
too ugly for personal religion to let walk undressed,
and survive, then
they are the truth poets.


some days,
there’s more poetry
swung from the neck of a headless chicken
pouring forth scarlet spurts of
freedom as his lifeless bodies thumps
to the dusty ground

than in me.

-s.a. (poetessparlant)

Stephanie is a self proclaimed homesick daughter of the diaspora. A proud American-Haitian, her work focuses on the duality of her identity and the maritime war between them. She started writing when she was 9 years old, and her first poem was about her favorite color; blue. Her inspirations are the ocean, sunsets, the moon, La Siren, her nomadic life, unrequited love, mother/daughter relationships, and absence. Having spent the majority of her college career as a homeless student, she sees that it is her duty to give back to whatever community welcomes her into it. She currently works at a non-profit in an under performing school, as a tutor and mentor to her students. When she’s not doing this, she’s reading, writing, tweeting, on tumblr, or painting her nails. Stephanie enjoys snacking, dancing, singing, drinking tons of tea, and writing articles about race, sexuality, sexual orientation, and other social justice issues. 

uninhabitable islands

see how he stamps “I love you”
on her bottom lips
in knuckle glyphs
intimate print only she can read

see red rivers run
down her left cheek
to irrigate the brown land of his hand
for his wild raptures to grow

see him cultivate plots on his palms
domesticate his rage
to raise specifically
for him and her alone

see how her back is a fist-crafted map
of every place his mad has roamed
to find her “ex”, his spot to dig, to treasure,
her booty his to hold
to his mouth
to his chest

see how he strokes her
how he sings of his riches
in the night…

see her spirits crash down
after leaps to the moon’s
silent arias
see how her eyes twinkle
in star-like lamentation
for unfulfilled wishes
see her wish to be a natural disaster,
a typhoon, an earthquake, tsunami,
to be break
instead of broken

years later, after too much of his reign
causes her chest to rust shut,
he’ll toss her with the other cases
of women who would never open up to him.

Click here to visit Stephanie’s website poetessparlant to view more of her formidable poems.

Thanks Stephanie,

Mark Jason Welch