every part of her
is in
          flames
even the tiny beads of sweat
glistening on her forehead
          emanate pure
                    pulsating
                    passion
it­ is an entity
          tightens around the muscles
in her wrist
her delicately fierce fingers
          weave scarlet stories
                    in the stuffy air that
          SNAP shut
stiffer than the wood of her stage
          sharper than blades

the fire escapes
          in sparks
          through the bottoms of her shoes
tapping
          clicking
          pounding
             ­       madly
the frills on her vibrant red dress
          trembling
          with every step
the colors fly
          golden scarves
          red and black lace
          dim green lights

the guitar throws his crimson and amber chords
                    into the air
they sparkle in flight
and land softly in her
          thick hair
like jet black
smoke

her deep breath flutters
            each quiver
                        a frantic
            flicker
            and            snap
     ­                   of a shivering sail
in the relentless
wind

her hands tremble
            pulse desperately
            echo the panicked heartbeat
                        of the splintering hull

I reach to hold her hands
            to settle the raging storm
and as my fingers close around them
            I feel the bloodcurdling shrieks
                        of the crew and passengers
            the wood creaking
            the swaying with each massive wave
            the heavy rain pummeling the deck
I look up
            to see storm clouds
                        in her irises
            casting shadows
over her eyes

there is nothing I can do
I cannot see where the skies
            brighten
I'm not sure if they do
but I will hold your hands
            grip the mast
and stay on board
until the pulse

stops

cold

do you think im pretty?

i know i
            have candle stubs
                        for irises
            and wrought iron door hinges
                        for a jaw
where other girls have
            mirrored ponds and
            flower stems

but i scrape the hardened wax off of my stony cheeks
            every morning
and sand down the splinters
                        on my wooden fingertips

it's all i can do because
            the moonlight i carry
                        turns to steam
            and the knots i tied in these flower stems
                        dont withstand the weight

do you think im pretty?
i promise my
            rigid joints can still bend to hold your waist and
            caress your midnight waves
            we can
                        stay here
                                    close
                  ­                              together
                          ­          and
                        breathe the same air
            dont worry about the

scorch marks on my neck or
splinters in my chest
darling they come from inside-
            right
                        here ...
            if you stay close
            i'll keep you
                        so
            warm–

and theres no need to worry
(because
            im
the only
one
close
            enough

to burn)

she is just like her father
my mother says to our family, her friends, the people she sits next to on the train
it is often an insult to
my stubborn head,
filled with logic gates constantly firing
and cursed with a sharp tongue—
my body,
with more fight boiling in her than all the enemies i’ll make in my life will ever take out of me,
and more soul-fire than she can keep contained within her,
burning, burning, and unafraid
to fill her lungs with the smoke of her passions,
to light aflame years at the end of her life and sculpt the embers and ashes into things she knows will live longer than her body.

i am just like my father
and he like his
and if you knew who they are you would prefer that i be borne of any other bloodline

i am my fathers daughter
i know the power of my integrity,
there is nothing scarier to you than a woman who cannot be bought,
who knows when she is right and will sacrifice everything,
set herself on fire and burn herself into a martyr for the good, the right, the true, things that are bigger than she is,
things some of you have never understood, will never understand, and you will dismiss me, think i am crazy.
even still i know my life has cosmic importance
even still i know that i am a threat to everything you are

i am my fathers daughter
i am my fathers daughter