The things I’m naming:
ways to feel unsettled in transition,
states and the way the birds landed
on the trees outside my window.
all the while thinking people
should just understand,
like they had your history with them.
feelings.

my mom once hung a “feelings’ chart
on my door
so I could circle the face that
most resembled mine. was it envy driving this
appetite? was I that difficult
to decipher? me,
always shaking in some corner
then blasting off,
dictating, taking,
moving everyone to room
to game.


I don’t talk much
sometimes.
actually sometimes I
let my mind molder
like an untended peach,
just growing brown and soft
and inedible,
unused, unexamined
any further.
put everything I own in trashbags
and toss it out.
I do this every year.

but in malice, the brambles
that i’m tied to,
dauntlessness prevails,
action, cardinal,
bitter.
they always say i’m bitter.
I’m acidic quite actually.

give me coffee,
watch me run in circles,
flash my tongue.
what it’s like to rule like queen:
favors coming at you and people
trembling in their seats,
the gluttony, the theft,
the power
What do I want?
and at your leisure.

my leisure:
the growth between getting
and having,
the run, the game.
If there is truth that people never
change, I guess I am stuck somewhere
on a trail
walking.

 

“nothing”

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