I am


girl on desert cellophane

feet arched over rocks and sand

still dancing

til I blister

still spinning 

til my knees give out

despite the 


despite the

roaring thunder over hills 

like funeral hymns 

ever encroaching

I am




Now that you know I’m afraid of lovebirds and budgies 

but not so much of flying 

it is plain to see that 

four blocks is not far at all

and neither is 763 miles. 

I laid your love out over two sets of sheets

and I don’t care who knows. 

Say what you want, I meant it all. 

I mean that I mean it, not meant, I mean I’ll mean it, not meant. 

I could live without but why would I call that living? 

Dared myself to leave a deathbed behind in Chicago, I see the birth of beauty in your eyes. 

All these words probably sound floral but they’re quite factual,

it’s just Cancer moon speaking sometimes. 

Say it again. 

I’m not pushing, I promise. I’m just asking, please. 

Started being soft as such I am, hope you don’t mind, just going 

to keep heating you like a salt lamp,

iodized and oxygenated heartbeats

sleeping with your hand on my chest. 

This poem doesn’t end. I don’t know how. 

That’s what feels best. 


The problem is there aren’t words to say how I feel about youI had to create a new form of art for it, I call it breathing, I do it daily 

regularly, with a discomforting ease 

you see

I haven’t been this scared in a long time

like those nightmares I have where I stand in the middle of a roof,

and my body always slides to the edge, no matter

how straight I stand so tall so right

angle to the stucco gray rooftop

but the ground sways until I am sideways regardless. 

I slide off the edge. 

And I think every other time I needed it, but

this time instead it’s a wonder

and only for those stories you tell when my ghost is 

sitting on the corner of my four poster frame saying,

“When is it ever always safe?” 

That’s why I promised myself I wasn’t stagnant, stay sliding

tectonic and always thinking ahead. 

That’s why I think it would be

wrong to say

I don’t think of you