Her voice has been a tumbling rush of passionate, revolutionary zeal (“I am at once livid / ashamed and paralyzed / by the neo-conservatism / breeding malicious amongst us”). But now, seated on a soft foam play rug composed of puzzle pieces in primary colors, it is calm. It is serene. It is the voice of a new mom.
“Right, Boogie?” Chin cooed to her gurgling 5-month-old daughter Zuri who is all big eyes and dark, soft curls. “Right, momma?”