Shifting shades of somber grays– an interlock of fractal lace– bend with snow to kiss my face Trees are most beautiful in winter
Rain splashed the light of the U-Haul sign like a bucket of paint across the windshield the night my sister was born. My first memory eased into being. The neon ghost and gone again. In the darkness and rumble, I fumbled for my mental camera, barely in focus, click–flash–The moment whizzed past.
A long-forgotten wick, lit, burns fast in melted wax
This skin I’m in tastes of freedom I will not shrink for your desire
I don’t know how we’ll get where we’re going but it was so cosmically unlikely we’d get to today I think we’ll be alright.
it’s not the weight of your body that pins me to earth it’s the beat of your heart i count my breaths by
It’s ok to love the younger you who used words as a weapon to hurt people that matter– that you with the wrong clothes and uneven bangs who harbored anger in her heart– the one who’s spine curved like a question mark as she tried in vain to take up less space in those photographs […]
In silence springs a subtle stir of circus pulses in my chest and whooshing tides and leaps and sighs– this thought-fraught notice knows no rest.
I bury my face in the warm dirt and shout, “Oh, this is what living is all about!”
How can I be beautiful in the way fire is as it devours everything if I devour nothing? I am a whole woman built to consume built to expand built upon the backs and wombs of whole women who wrestle with invisible wounds and insecurities. I am the culmination of their fight for space and their bodies made from their bodies forged from stars so I devour.