I light two candles; one purple, one black
Ignite the lavender powder, stick the space between my nostrils
Feel the place between my ears

you have re-emerged from
The center of my brain
This overcast/grey-cloud tattoo of light particles mend the broken, background mandala

I have dreams of saving New Mexico, every shattered kingdom, every splattered heart. I hope you still believe in love too. I hope you don’t comprise oxygen like I do. I hope you still tie carbon into infinity knots.

I promised myself I would only write of god
Of the rose that roots itself in your shoulder in this post-winter aid
But all I want to say is that I hope you’re well