Thursday, 5 December 2024

i am remembered

and all that matters is

that i read all her streams of

cherry blossom losses and

Billie Holiday on repeat. 

i apologize

to your silence and i am 

embarrassed

to lead these small lashes 

penetrated with baby pink,

boiled, dreams, 

full of

life.

i am collected with

warmer words

and closer

closed wombs.



polished beads

adorn my heat again to seam through the veins of my heart and inside the steel of my toe.  i see pink clouds in her hair; she seeds  thunder...