a dusty first
aid kit,
on a shelf,
in the corner of
an empty
kitchen
waiting for next
hint of
blood
to open
up.
shadow play
called my tale
a lie
as shadows
of characters gushed
of flourishing
years
in star stuffed
yards
weeded once upon
a time,
but now lawn
yellows
like smiles that know they’re
all for show.
another curbside
pickup-
old frames missing
glass,
photographs as if they
could be crawled
into to
die..
glaring from the
other side–
at an exiled
sofa
that did not withstand the
burn marks of
our kind.
under mustard sky
we cover
lungs
to guard the heart from
harsh fire
winds
while fear blows warm
on desert grass
praying that the
rage won’t
last,
sparing souls
restless and trapped.
*praying for the safety and of all impacted by the wildfires currently flanking my home city.
conjuring pink magic
with friends in an abandoned attic
contact the past to forgive
what can’t be changed
to suit the
present,
fingers perched on board in tandem
shouldn’t play but we’re
bewitched
by the promise, by the quest,
four moved to seek
by unrest.
tonight’s moonlight drips
like eye drops
from sky
gods
glazing thick and
milky
rolling highlight reels
of memories
that no longer
comfort
me
though i watch with humility
to what runs
like..
someone else’s
story
“go tame” they order
with finger on
the taser
gritting teeth like nothing
will satisfy
like a flesh wound bite
to their threat
to peace
and freedom space
of a beast with
a taste for
the wild.
break down, on a side road
every lane’s closed
my head rests in my hands
dreaming at the wheel
i forget what brought me here
feet pressed through the floor
to feel sand on my toes
grounded but still high
where am i in between
vast cosmos and the sea?
wash me back to shore
can’t see the road no more
so i breathe, like it’s my first
so damn alive it hurts
but they’re just words
woke to silver
light on
walls
in a bout of
restless
legs,
shapes rise and fade
as cars escape
from their own
sleepless
fates.
i’m the bearded
vixen
with a heart
of molten vanilla,
and i weep
in lipstick shades
down the mirror
every time
we play.
hands in the garden 
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