There's gypsy soul in my blood,
         wildflower-scented
         and airy with wonder.

I breathe best in water;
         I trip too much
         on land.

My hands are cold and dry;
         I soak them in
         sunflower baths.

I can't tell if the tide is coming in or

        slipping away.

(There are galaxies pinwheeling all around me and I can’t sleep.)

there is a malignance
festering within my bones.

night has hypnotized me numb.

it pulls Lake Michigan’s secrets in.

i stare at my cracked wrists.

there is mold in the crevices
of my mind.

i need stardust, to taste the burn of light.

the moon pulls blood from my heart,
shivers from my skin,
a sirens scream from my throat.

I sit here,

            cat on my lap,

            an evergreen forest in my lungs

                                    and silver fish in my heart.



Your blue eyes are beneath these typewriter keys,

                                    behind every sheet of paper.



“I will always find you,” you whispered as our stars ripped apart.





And you did,



                        on a May night warm with sangria and bonfire:

                                    we made eye contact

                                    and our souls crashed



                                    into each other



                                    like wave against wave,



                                    starlight against starlight.