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elle Jun 2019
You built me, years ago
And in a fit of tears what began as a question, an act of creation and letting go
became a
celebration of the unknown.

I was born from an idle whistle,
as the doe walked by the picture window,
as the kettle screamed
imagined rhymes and futures drifted on by her,
like knees knocking on the swing set, hair that stands straight out, cheeks flushed in the rain.

Now we sit at the kitchen table
like it's the simplest act in the world,
to love
to have given life
I don't want to be a walking womb
I want to nurture, with my whole body-
heart included. I want to give and receive equally, the joys and sorrows that mortality bestows us.
I want to know,that I am more than a body. That the thoughts which echo within me, bounce back into the universe
with some symbolism and clarity
with some recycled dirt and magic
and with my consent.
elle Jan 2019
through the slit of her mouth
where dandelions smiled
begging to be
uprooted, undone
in a cosmic sigh across this endless leaf, the Wind she
turned her back to us
what felt like a yawn across a fatal gorge
and down below, the tremble of her core
lifting up our dreams in outstretched fists
of flower dust, from a time before
close our eyes in unison
breathe out
the tune   of our birth,
which our mothers' hummed in their sleep, our being
only imagined
in their unfathomed dreams
elle Jan 2019
I, a blue jay, circle your driveway
And you, a child beneath my
Calculated swooping wings, stare emptily.

And I, the
Net you peek between
Sweaty fingers, chain link fence
A vehicle of crass but fated feelings-
Your follow-through
Your thoroughfare
Take it: the ball, the eyes, the roaring noise.

Inquisitive yet silent
Such balance becomes our solemn dance
Of hunter and the prey.

I sing to you in looks and hums
And hand on belly you
Eat me up.
elle Jan 2019
it seeps
under my fingernails into skin
doused in clean! the filth is killed!
then I spit at it.


caress my brow in a palm, any warm pocket of flesh
a grandmother’s *****
the spine of a leaf
my dog’s velvet-soft triangle-shaped ear
anything that will let my grief get some rest

sorrow is heavy trash bag to haul

find me a bellhop or a sidewalk construction man
something with biceps and a hardened face. someone who can clean **** up.

these shards could maim a bystander
         why force one to bleed such an unnecessary truth
wouldn't want to wreck these shiny floors

better to keep it hid, better tighten my lips around it
I mean,
how do -you- feel under these fluorescent lights?
who is studying who?

I understand now my circus of an existence was born
in a tight space
between the exhausted description of my histories
-the official ones- and

these secrets,
the juicy stuff
encrypted in me
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