I wear minnows on my wrist –
they came from my eyes
but at least they swim
and I am not alone when I cry.

I am guilty of emptying
my loved ones
into picture frames

so they will last forever, and
I have thought about
tattooing makeup to my face.

Everything
I try to hang onto releases me
like rainfall salt from
cypresses, leaving a bad taste
or nothing to trace at all.

I want to leave rose petals
in everyone’s pocket
to attract hungry bumblebees

because I feel
my least lonesome when
something’s being slid
into me, even if it stings a little.