how (w)horrific to be
marina wholly in
and (w)holily out
the dragon’s mouth.
marina warns what swallowing connotes.
isn’t this why agatha offers
her ******* like a double portion?
how did they swallow being swallowed?
and how did they convince the dragon
to declare them undevourable
without their qualities of flesh?
tracing the lines of poems
has taught me clairvoyance.
now i can flip the cards behind your hearts.
word tricks are math.
reading is the art.
love splits me open like a fairy nut:
from my chest flow forth
the honey and the gold
and my heart melts like a sword
like something that recalls
the taste of blood.
as her ladies paint
her blue blood on her lips
“queens die like this:
with the theatrics
of the crowning ceremony
and the proud negligence
of the morning toilette:
the gods-awful magnificence
of a wrist-flick:
draw me my milk bath,
bring me my venom pills.”
it's raining again.
medusa's let down her hair:
strands of raindrops
poison on armour.
my insides may curl up like sails in a storm
but my heart is the flag, unafraid to be torn.
to become immortal, you must devour
the gods. begin with the god of fear
and when the god of the nile
floods your heart's temple
lay your offerings underwater.
i think i might have a mole.
my teeth are dug out of their rows.
my tongue is pulled out at the root.
my nails are shriveled up thorns,
my wrists wilted bouquets of bones.
my ribs metal jaws which enclosed
something that bit off its foot.
my skull’s overturned,
seeds spilling out of the neck.
what is a corpse but a flower bed?
do not let them name you like they name the stars.
do not focus your brightness
on the tip of an eyelash
when your whole body is a hydrogen hive.
do not curl into a ball of light
when you can stretch and be a night sky.
girls are soft as wolf's fur
subtle as a starburst
fragile as a porcelain knife
and we sting, we cut, we bite;
girls were born with strings tied to our wrists
and we'll gently drag you down;
you will lean in for a kiss
and we'll steal your paper crowns.
a pharaoh's tomb:
the i interred in immortality.
when words are slipping down my throat
and no tune stirs my vocal chords
i'll split the atoms of my soul
and i will sing like a thunderstorm.
All the scattered
Pieces of yourself;
Fight your battles
With the weapon of yourself;
Take the shrapnel
From your bossom;
Turn it into something else:
A poisoned wine-cup,
A deadly blossom;
Make war like what you are:
A work of art.
The falcon, too, was once earth-bound,
And scared to leave the solid ground;
(How curious, to be afraid,
To use the wings that you were given;)
But she joined hands with her own terror,
And let it lead the path to heaven;
(How glorious, to understand,
To use the power of your demons.)
Dance; bathe your heart in sweat:
Make the hurricane jealous of your fervour;
Sing; summon gods with your breath:
Make the stars beg for your favour.
your eyes are the mirror
the sky looks into.
There is no vacancy inside of me;
That’s the space where my words are born.
Be kind to your own mind:
When it wakes you in the middle of the night,
(Your thoughts afraid of their own shadows;)
Hold it like you hold a child:
Softly, yet with all your might,
(Turn its terror into a fable;)
Don’t ever be ashamed to love yourself.
The birds are singing in their sleep
And my brain paints its fevered dreams
Amidst the stars; and my heart starts
And asks if ships, seen from above,
With their lights on, form constellations;
Did someone ever tell the moon
Her light is merely a reflection?
No, mother, I am not
The fairy tale girl with vipers sliding from her throat;
But rather, the vipers coil
In the pit of my stomach where my anger would rot;
So I dip my words in their poison
Lest it eats a hole in my skeleton;
Lest the world should see
The viper's nest inside of me.
One sleepless night I heard the lark
Chir-chirruping inside my heart;
Got up to find her in the dark
To capture her and set apart
Her stringless resonating harp
On which she played a note so sharp;
My very soul said: "Hark, oh, hark!
What is this iridescent spark
That set my every thought aflame?
For in its sound I heard my name!
That made my ear and eye so changed
That all the world illuminates?
It will not let me sleep again
Until my every breath is spent!"
I looked and looked and looked in vain
But carried with me the refrain
So every time I turned around
The sound was coming from without;
At lenght I closed my tired lids
And heard the lark sing from within;
And this is how I figured out:
I'm not the kindling. I'm the spark!
My words drip colors:
They do not breathe
Through consonants and vowels;
They do not seethe
With passion or sorrow;
They do not aim like arrows;
They do not trip on talons.
My words make chaos:
My bones and marrow;
They slip and spill
Through cracks so narrow;
The raising of an eyebrow;
The mumble through a mouthful.
My words come back to me:
They find release in hands and fists,
(that hit and hit and hit)
They seek reprieve in tears and drinks,
(that drip and drip and drip)
They bloom like flowers
(not on my lips as I speak -
but upon elbows and knees)
My words drip colors, and so color me.
Oh, why don’t you wander,
My little fickle heart?
There’s a rose-bud– there’s a thunder
Why not settle for that?
“Roses stung me, thunder burned me,”
Said the little fickle heart
“So I stole a petal and a flash,
Won’t you let me now come back?”
Oh, but what of wonder,
My little fickle heart?
Worlds await you– words will mend you
Why not settle for that?
“Words enslaved me, worlds forsake me,
When their magic had worn out.
But I brought a paper and a pen,
Won’t you let me back again?”
Ah, you’re so ungrateful,
My little fickle heart!
Life will bend you– I’ll betray you
Why d'you settle for that?
“‘Long as you would let me rest
Bruised and bleeding in your chest,
‘Tis but all I’ll ever ask”
Said the little fickle heart.
— The End —