Pride Poems 2026

1. Today’s Poem “Dumb Inheritance” by Angelique Palmer

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   Dumb Inheritance
   Of course, I should tell you about the storage units
   
   a collection of memories behind the whine of metal door
   
   I cannot collect courage enough to open again.
   
   The ache I did not earn, but pay promptly for-
   
   the resentful silence I’ve polished into a shrine.
   Of course, I should tell you about the storage units
   
   the resentful silence I’ve polished into a shrine,
   
   Lethargy lays like an heirloom quilt my family’s winters,
   
   in each itchy stich; stained into unwanted
   
   but heavy with sleepless nights.
   Of course, I should tell you about the storage units
   
   but heavy with sleepless nights.
   
   While mourning, I grew bone-deep fatigue,
   
   jelly for legs, a breathless brunch
   
   no part of me wants to sift through it
   
   again and again and again.
   The box bottom’s sag into a pulp of almosts    on the third try
   
   The guilt of donating the china she saved her checks for    on the fifth
   
   A coat that still holds the weather of my big sister’s shoulders, the way I put it back in the crate
   
   And purse faux leather combusting into a pile of disintegration.
   
   again and again and again.
   Of course, I should tell you about the storage units
   
   How my mother kept everything she used         to replace
   
   everything she used to fill                                  the space left
   
   when life took everything from her
   
   How it was all left to me.
   
   How I’m doing this too.
   
   How this phantom company is so damned lonely.
   Of course I should tell you, of course I should.
   
   The loneliness of wading through
   
   a mine field of mold spores and memories.
   
   Each box a clearing of my throat,
   
   each label, a survivor’s remorse.
   
   Contractor bags filled with mystery
   
   photographs the way they sob decay in their frames,
   
   how this split my living kin into splinters
   This is what was left for me:
   
   not money, not land, but a legacy
   
   of practiced evasion
   
   a struggle to even visualize
   
   the door’s groaning
   
   like a siren song tsunami.
   So, of course, we should speak about how difficult it is to
   
   continue.
   
   Keeping what keeps me stagnant
   
   –bone-deep tired, jelly for legs, wealthy in waste.
   Still, I carry the keys,
   
   tell myself I will open it;
   
   tell myself I will air it all out
   
   tell myself I will set myself
   
   free
   
   soon.
   

   Angelique Palmer is a performance poet, Kindergarten Teacher, and Spoken Word instructor at Wilkes University. Author of two full-length books, she is a member of the 2026 Pride Poems Fellowship cohort and will serve as Fairfax County Poet Laureate until 2027.
   

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2. “Not Going Quietly” by Peter Montgomery

   
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   Not Going Quietly
   “Another world is not only possible,
   
   she’s on the way and, on a quiet day,
   
   if I listen very carefully, I can hear her breathing.”
   
   – Arundhati Roy
   I can hear a new world coming on the loudest days,
   
   drummers thrumming heartbeats at the Pride parade,
   
   go-go music’s energizing beats at a Free DC rally
   
   at 14th and U, drivers honking appreciation.
   Screams of delight at the Halloween high-heel race,
   
   solidarity singers serenading purged federal workers,
   
   dance parties summoning courage and celebration
   
   at the gates of gulags and centers of oppression.
   Bullhorns and boos aimed at architects and enablers
   
   of authoritarian cruelties and brutal kidnappings,
   
   righteously directed rudeness rousting them
   
   from swanky strongholds and comforting cocoons.
   Decide now that you will not be quietly complicit.
   
   Gather strength in silence if that is what feeds you.
   
   Breathe deep, seek peace, find solid ground.
   
   Exhale the joyful noise of liberation.
   

   Peter Montgomery is a researcher, writer, and activist who is relying on poetry, singing, and community to keep him grounded and human in the face of the cruelty and authoritarianism of the MAGA movement currently controlling our national politics. He is grateful for his loving husband, sweet dog, meaningful work, and family and friends near and far.
   

   Peter Montgomery is a resident of Brookland.

3. “for a friend, for when despair is lounging on their chest” by tt santos

   
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   i roll up bible pages and u say
   
   ‘don’t bring those curses down on me.’ don’t play,
   
   u been cursed! from the start, least from the day
   
   u jailbroke ur soul, breathed river-clay
   to life. besides, don’t we got angels too?
   
   what else u think i’m doing when i kneel
   
   between ur thighs but worship? don’t it feel
   
   like heaven in this hell ur burning thru?
   get up! the empire’s making us its bitch–
   
   we need ur sorcery. dig up the streets,
   
   churn through the sewer trash–let loose the Land!
   earthquake the obelisk, it’s made of sand!
   
   no matter how these godfrauds beat their meat,
   
   they’re roadkill ratsnakes–ur a crossroads witch.
   

   tt santos lives in Columbia Heights. She draws, paints, writes, tattoos, and cooks. She aspires to create work that insults the genocidally drab sensibilities of the hegemon.
   

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   tt santos is a resident of Columbia Heights.

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