from your bare chest nine swords emerged
bedecked in gold and precious stones
the honey which flowed from your sacred wound
tasted better than any sort

my chest is full of burning coals / a penitent shepherdess, dreaming / above the slumbering world the moon changes shape / through the waking-world, spring turns to summer / i kneel before the garden in sorrow / one olive in my hand

many lives were lived by one / thousands of eternities have passed / twenty-one years on this earth / i rot and grow again / i lay still and let the earth swallow me whole

the April maiden grins a toothy grin / she dances and sings, diadem of baby's breath / upon her dark head, upon her soft brow / she holds the hand of sweltering Summer / and the sun heralds a new hymn / and the world swells in chorus / and for once, the world has stopped

you fed me a sticky-sweet fruit
covered in honey, you watched me
as it dripped down my mouth
as it coated my fingers

you observed me in golden hues
under a city that never sleeps
your eyes behold so much beauty
your lips speak so much sweetness

you were the color of the sun
tho they culled your dark hair
ripping the root from the tree
scattering them across murky waters

you were veiled in gossamer
early morning eating away at your bitter bark,
hand pressed against mine.
we plant ourselves like apple trees
your roots yet to regrow.

bloated and rotted
abandoned on the roadside
i lay down with you

we have the same birth chart,
her and i.
she and me.
hands clasped together at kensington row

aries sun, aries moon
and gemini venus
and scorpio mars
together, both with black hair

you said let there be light / and there it was. in every touch / every breath / every whisper / i am set aflame / the wrath of god / the love of god / my heart is like wax.

there is terror in your eyes / you gaze upon me wide-mouthed / beads of sweat collect into the chalice / with your unspoken devotion / my lion face peels away / my eagle face peels away / my ox face peels away / my human face peels away

taste of honeysuckle / sound of windchimes / the air's thick like a shroud / you, with your basket of mulberries / me, dumbfounded and mouth agape

it’s gone.
i never knew how to feel. i never knew what anything meant
and everything was new, and the waters were oddly still.
i chose to swim to you. despite my drowning
and i swam into your arms, and i learned to love.
you and i, we grew together like vines
intertwining, our lives connected
by what did not seem like a tenuous thread.

days turned into months.
we did not count down the time, it did not matter to us
until yesterday, when you decided
we could no longer be lovers
and i still don’t know why,
but it’s gone.
it’s gone.

when i was small, i would stare up the banana tree in my front yard.
it was
high, and i thought it would never end
growing past the clouds, into the sky
when i was eight
we moved to the united states and
i waved goodbye

the sun rises slowly at 5AM

and the world smells like fresh rain

and the world is coated in gold

do you remember when we still loved each other?

or- we did not know it was love-

we fell asleep together

and did not see each other again

what do you do when
you never see her again?
after one afternoon

is it enough? to just
burn her face into your memory
even though you sat next to each other in class every day
even though she tried to talk to you
even though the tightness in your chest wouldn’t leave

what should i do when
i missed all my chances
after one afternoon

she took the train and headed to georgia
i doubt she’ll remember me
as farms turn to houses
as houses turn to buildings
as time passes and she disappears into a sea of faces

what should i do when
i still have dreams about you?
on a sunny afternoon

it’s humid in the theatre
and we dance to a song about a circus
wearing character shoes on a slippery stage

between breaks we sit across from each other
she holds sylvia plath close to her heart
virginia woolf on her tongue

i feed her a peeled orange
while she looks out the window with languid eyes
where a bright blue sky waits for us

tomorrow we’ll have to come back again
but this time, a red picnic blanket
on green grass is when we’ll be alone

she’ll read me dickinson
while i feed her strawberries
and together, we’ll look up at the cloudless blue sky

longing is what best describes it. what i’m feeling
and what i’m thinking when i see you in passing.
i still regret being with you, but nothing can be done
about things that already happened.
we were full of mistakes, like you said.

none of my friends liked you. and even then, i knew
that something was wrong, and i blame it on my youth.
because there was nothing else to blame
and it was all wrong, we both realized that.

i don’t want to be with you. but your promises linger
and drift into my empty head at night.
when the sky is dark and the air is full of pollen,
when the world is quiet and the metro rumbles
down its track, into a tunnel, open like an animal’s maw.