you’re distracting,
I’ve heard before.
used to get moved all the
time in elementary school,
away from my friends only
to make more friends
and get the class chattering.
me, I’m just a little
hummingbird.

little innocuous
sending
you some mailed cryptograms
asking you if you like
peaches or nectarines
better. I’m becoming juice.
how will I know
which citrus bed to
plunder, slather
myself in pulp you
can just lick right off?

me? I’ll go you
know, I’m wind,
so just take it.
just tell me what to
line my neck in.
you know it takes
you three years and I
show up head to toe
doused in rosemary
anyway,
choker dotted with
every piece of
tourmaline I own.
a tiny cross in my hand
from my nana’s broken
rosary. me?
I’m wind, I’ll
go.

kiss your cheek and
gesture to my attire,
wrapped in silver to fight
the dogs of moon,
whisper got to keep
those ghosts away,
yeah?
me? I don’t mean
a thing,
breeze in hall
just scenting the
tops of your books
like I’m right to own
them. you?

you will know me
by my officious
typeface and choker
tight around the throat
lined in polished,
black stone.

“the letters”