never trust
never hope
never dream
never depend
never answer
never concede
these are the rules i abide
so i will
never get my trust broken
never be disapointed
never fail
never be unable
never be known
never be a push-over

Soft hush
a lilac hush,
spilling from heaven’s cufflinks.

Dust-throated wind,
draped in violet lace,
forgets how to whisper.

Once,
a petal kissed my wrist,
feather-light, sugar-spun.
(It melted before I could love it.)

Beneath the boughs
time folds like an origami swan.
A child presses footprints into fallen silk,
calls for lullabies.

Glittering
a secret only the butterflies know,
written in ultraviolet sighs.

Stay.
Stay.

But the season is shifting,
jacaranda knows no permanence.

A lilac hush
soft hush
dissolving into sky.

Ik/sting(k)SH(a)n/
noun
1. ultraviolet silence. fracture patterns in the exposed knuckle bones. we pray with our knees in the dust but the gods do not answer us. the pines creak with the weight of ghosts.
2. it is a fire light dance. it is a marrow-born dance. close your tired eyes. let yourself be spun in winding circles. remember to breathe, remember to breathe.
3. no red feathers, all red ashes. listen to me, child, it always starts with you saying, I am doing something right.

even after i lose my voice,
i will miss you in my bones.
even after my bones are ground to dust,
i will miss you in my flesh.
and when that flesh rots to feed the flowers
that grow above my skeleton,
and the child that will inhale the perfume
of my longing
will know that you are missed.

breathe
do you feel your lungs expanding?
do you feel you chest rising?
open
open your eyes
do you see the sun?
the moon?
the stars?
the clouds?
all of them were made for you
you
wonderful
       beautiful
                lovely
                                ­           YOU
sincerely,
someone who cares

gentle wind
cold as we sit, and i pull my sleeves up over my palms
as a barrier to the world
it’s a glitch
—a habit i’m still failing to break
the good key lies in the soul of the one who holds that key
i am all locked up now
just how it looks
like tree trunks in the snow
sleek and readily fanciful
i want to push them all down the hill

except, in appearance, they are firmly wedded to the ground
and they are individuals
but the only thing that hasn't changed already is the train tracks by her house
and those planks of wood are collectively sorrowful
who even understands what a goodbye means these days?
it’s a glitch

i’m the one who put ribbons around the white necks of the public doves

i saw
a track without a train
but does that mean
it’s changed?
trolley problem except the people are dead at the start
which ones do you save?
glitch

it’s a glitch
it’s broken pearls and hammers all day
“she’s making wings again
wooden wings
—they won’t fly”
but you can’t stop me from jumping off the roof,
you know i have to try

it’s a glitch, it’s just a glitch

still tucking myself into closets and cupboards and slow-cooking pots of rice
i make endless cups of coffee and dump most of them in my front yard
my soulmate watches from the window
but one day i will find the thing that doesn’t change
i’ll catch the garment that the moon will shed and wear it like a shroud
invisible rainbow all the time
like mistaken, fawn-colored beauty; or a blind rage

yellow sign
private property
someone just beyond, screaming obscenities
bubblegum on silver

tell me how to balance my life
talking, nearly falling from the tree
by the elementary
still tucking myself into old schoolbooks and pencil sharpeners and washed-away chalk
i am a domino on an altar
quartz in the mouth
i remind myself to roll up my sleeves again

so artfully taken away, my smithereens
the gifts i laid at the feet of the dead queen
it felt like
a glitch
a calf at the wooden fence, flies milling around the eyes
a familiar face among passerby
a picket sign that reads “**** the rich”
broken pearls, hammers, long sleeves
a glitch

just how it looks
like tree trunks in the snow
sleek and readily fanciful
i want to push them all down the hill
a glitch if they let me
it’s a glitch