…. written in chicago. june 2024
dip my little red toes in the water
reflecting shards of glass and something
that feels familiar, like the blanket of
camomile oil or lemongrass — or
your eyes. . .
deep blue. .
take me, fold me,
venus in her high chair.
sea-foam blues and
notes that shattered and the broken piano
under the ocean. . .
devotional lady of the sea
take me deep.
x
i bend the spines of my books
high and alert
open, stretched, revealed
as they were meant to be, worn with time
and held to the heart. i bend my spines and rip them and wet the glue with my tears,
if love is binding then let binding
be undone and redone.
the cracks of a book are home to the human heart,
cracked, swelled, pouring with love.