Work Text:
I.
afternoon, oblique light
hits the table in shards and i know that light has power,
can be shaped
but still, somehow, the way your knuckles pass into its beam
and out again, like it’s nothing,
my body is sudden light, flowing to the floor, pooling
wielded
by your hand
II.
shock of iridescence and
warble then
the jay withdrawn from sight
and in my hand the weed
torn off at the stem
it’s a small failure, but the tiny wilting thing in my startled palm,
root unplucked,
lays me flat. the dirt is cool
and seeps through this shirt, so brazen in its blue
like the jay, i yearn for camouflage
III.
this morning was…hard. you were always the one who enjoyed pain. not me i
wrapped up in clouds, pepto-pink and artificial
where words were just words and not these writhing monsters perforating my throat
where the throb of a healing wound was not a barbed thing with teeth, with reprimands
my first step onto the floor was a reverberating shriek in my muscles, my blood, my skin. my whole left side was fire and all i wanted was the five cool points of your fingers, containing me
your fingers could do that, just like your words. line up all the jagged pieces and press them together until i
sang with it
mine are just a sieve holding nothing
IV.
luck is someone’s discipline, but not mine
i swam in it, drank it deep, let its juice run in syrupy trails down my chin
and then i raced for the desert to rub my skin raw with sand.
my heart, i know
i’m unlucky now, because i squandered you but
i would build whole castles from rain and swallow them down, drown in it
to have you back
V.
i found your sweater today.
what makes it yours, when you aren’t here?
there’s a color, but i can’t place the hue without the spectrum
silk of your hair, your eyes
there’s a scent but it’s half mine now, and stale
if i just breathe harder i might catch it
pepper, just as it fades
VI.
we called it grief, and waited. hoping
those five weapons would defend us
but i say we have waited long enough
and even a gnarled hand will cast better
when it has six fingers
my heart, i promised you i would be braver
i never said how
VII.
sky a mirror
it swells with secondhand light
i never felt such bliss to turn
away from a reflection and face the burning glow of the source
that is to say, your body
freshly warm, in my bed
and stretching, sighing, blinking,
overflowing
with you
VIII.
crisp-edged
pale green curl disappears behind your lips
a smile
darling, when i planted that lettuce you were gone
and i never knew that all along
i was growing it for you
to shove messily into
your mouth
oil staining the edges
but also i never thought
that i would be there too, with you, mended