I like when you
invent fire, when
you discover the sun,
when you say hush woman
hush, believe this – we are one
Marsha Singh Mar 20
Next time I wake from sleep
for keeps – from deepest, darkest
slumber – I may come back a little
bird to visit in the summer; my
quetzal pomp, green feathered
grace, singing through my hunger –
when I am gone, I may come back
your pretty bird, a wonder.
Marsha Singh Nov 2017
Not my stop, but
still the thought of
leaving makes my
heart feel hot – to cross
beneath the buzzing light,
softly into this crisp night.
Marsha Singh Nov 2017
hair freed,
closed blinds –
supine and un-
done, heart like
a warm gun.
Marsha Singh Nov 2017
I love how we
sound together –
your crackle of
laughter up the chimes
of my spine, and the
hush hush hush of
my satisfied mind.
Marsha Singh Oct 2017
now every second is
like the embers of
beggars: tended.
Maybe I've finally grown up.
Marsha Singh Sep 2017
I won't leave much
more than a happy
ghost when I am gone –

some poems, a peace-
ful soul at rest, some
tired, tranquil bones,

quite content to dis-
appear, no tomb
or mossy stone.

My days were sweet,
and bright; I hope
I honored every one.
Just thinking about mortality lately, and feeling at peace with it.
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