green means go
unless you’re color blind
or naturally red.

red means yes.

there is so much to unlearn
at once. namely stages
of ways you’ve learned
to quell a thirst
and feelings.
how to feel things.

like the color red,
the please,
and the way to yearn
in foreign tongue,
your native
szeretet,
your native love
is wind.

your native tongue
is wind.

“obsessions are nine tenths of my flaws.”

–Atticus

my nails are short and brittle.
I like stretching my fingers,
examining my hands a new way
in the blue dyed bath
in the new insular spring
where everything is only happening
inside of houses.
I spend my moments laying on the carpet
or up here watching
my nails fall off.
reminds me of when I was younger.

when I tap the tub
they stop.
I don’t want them to get
too far.
I know how to stop myself.
I turn back to the vent.

“Ok, will you go but
no trespassing. You don’t enter.
Just walk to the  edge and
scrape your finger around
the bubble. Just feel the edge for
me and report back.”

I wait.
I close my eyes,
I see the sun.
I see the view.
there is a spine game
I will explain later that is
similar to the tap game.
I don’t do anything without
explicit consent except
walk edges of gardens,
balconies or houses.
unless they invite me in.
that’s now, not
then.
when she returned,
she bore.
I felt my body swell
with the pigment;
red
and pulsing.
sometimes when I say things
I spontaneously tap the
tub. 
when I tap the tub
it means I got
the right answer.
red.

“ok, thank you
Ava.”

I did not name them.
they came in three
with names,
with histories.

“the baths”

“obsessions are nine tenths of my flaws.”

–Atticus

my nails are short and brittle.
I like stretching my fingers,
examining my hands a new way
in the blue dyed bath
in the new insular spring
where everything is only happening
inside of houses.
I spend my moments laying on the carpet
or up here watching
my nails fall off.
reminds me of when I was younger.

when I tap the tub
they stop.
I don’t want them to get
too far.
I turn back to the vent.

“no trespassing,walk to the
edge, scrape your finger around
the bubble. just feel the edge for
me.”

the edge was red.
when i tap the tub
it means i got the right answer.

“ok, thank you
Ava.”

“the baths”

“obsessions are nine tenths of my flaws.”

–Atticus

piety is not as easy
as running away.

I’m on the bridge again,
scared to lean over,
scared I am going to jump.

it’s February, I’m
in my dead brother’s sweatshirt,
I’m racing a clock.

piety is not as easy
as running away.

they say nothing gets by
me except every man.
I wink.

Have you lied yet?

You literally used both questions immediately.
You cannot ask any more questions.
and no, I have not lied yet.

you said I was the
darkest
coldest thing
you’ve ever seen.
my fingers caked
in mud and
reaching.
hidden by
the wind, I am
lucid and hoping
but also malaised
and still seeking
an ancient revenge.

you watch me prey;
sip the drip of
the effulgent crescent
bulb I worship.
I hide my sulk
in strut and I
mask things,
like sweetness or
consideration for the others
in your life. I am
dripping accusations down
my lips as you
learn each line of my
palm and you begin to draw
your own duplicity
out for me.

it is not the Devil
you know, but the Devil
you seek.

you didn’t want to
be so right.
I become the
distance: the chasm,
the scorned red bath,
the woods,
the very long
bottom.
you better dig yourself
out and it always
 starts with a well.

well,
file your nails into
sharp points and
lean into them.

“datura moon”