there was no fanfare.
it was, and suddenly, it wasn’t, i hear she grew a new
body, it was cold on cooper last winter when
i first learned how to pronounce goodbye in broken gutturals, i am in a
perpetual fall from grace. it is hard to tell, with my mouthful
of half-languages, should I ask time to give back
what is mine, how your overripe body roams
these neighbourhood streets, and the sirens got too loud, you could not
remember how your cinnamon arms peeled her skin like figs, curls of
velvet night in knots that were not taught to straighten
enough for this world, even when the men came, handsome, the way
only honey can be. that should have been
warning, scraping up a heartbroken girl, who comes from a home
of heartbroken girls, her last words left you with hundreds
more bodies, you remain silent, questions that come
with answers. liquid kohl eyes blur out your dreams. why
love that little girl if you were always going to leave. at what cost, how
much for us to be free?