star

the more of me i see, the less of me i want to be. i feel empty and dreaded and dead inside;

i’m a horn atop a pig’s head;

i still remember dogwood, sitting under my porch;

Her name was Violet, 

but she always wore yellow. 

I spied her from across the room as I hesitated in the sun-framed doorway, and she was beautiful. 

There was cedar in the beginning and then there were candy canes. 

It begins —

This thing call Spring —

With sunshine and birdsong

Slowly infused into everything.

It begins with

Deep brown rivers gauged in viscous dirt roads,

As the frozen ground thaws and overflows.

I painted my nails blue

because I couldn’t think what else to do 

to stop myself from thinking of you.

I didn’t realize until they dried,

it was the very color of your eyes:

it’s 2am and i’m still lying awake 

with thoughts in one hand and feelings in the other. 

how can i go to sleep with a head full of stars 

and my face running away 

up into the sky