first, accept the truth of it—
beneath the rippling sound
live words, layered thick
upon the land. remember
you’ve known this bone
deep from the beginning.
when mother stepped away,
the birds told you. it’s why
you cried under the tree.
it’s why you’re still here
reading beside me.
huddled in closets,
thousands of eyes—
rivers of spiders
skittering,
nothing left to spin.
she could wear a dress
her mother stitched
for her thirteenth birthday
or a maroon scarf
she salvaged from a chest
in the locked attic
i went outside to find
something pretty
to capture
with my lens
but ended up
finding myself
inside my kitchen
*64/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. All photos are mine.
i, who elements shape
find myself fault lined
crackling scorched earth
barbed wired veins
mirage burned horizon
marrow splitting
ocean starved
teetering here—
shadow upon dirt
catching the wind
*61/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. All photos are mine.
you used to come mewing
whenever i stepped outside—
a neighbor’s cat
who claimed my space
