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

Brave to ask.

   Wise to listen.

      Inspired to act.

         Transformation.

Angel of anguish, take this from me.

your feathers brush away my sins,

but your talons carve my guilt into my chest.

sweet Angel, carry me to oblivion,

rest your head in the lake of inaction,

tasting wordless pleas.

eyes, eyes, they say they never lie.

but you have none, only an empty promise lay in your skull.