Work in Progress:
A pen and ink girl with a twisted heart knows
Albert Einstein’s eyebrows were really
baby salamanders. They whispered the
theory of relativity and why the sky is
really blue into his abalone
ear while he was sleeping.
Nobody has ever woken up from a nap
wishing they’d done something else.
Melting M&M’s at 2 am,
I haunt the small house like a
hyperactive nightgown.
A ginger boy holds a
gold heart bursting from his chest,
dripping off his fingertips. His mother
pins it to the refrigerator with a magnet
shaped like the great state of Texas.
Everything really is bigger there.
We gather at the quicklime pond
and dip our toes in standing water.
Our digits feed the fishes.
We emerge with fewer parts but more complete.
Albert Einstein’s eyebrows were really
baby salamanders. They whispered the
theory of relativity and why the sky is
really blue into his abalone
ear while he was sleeping.
Nobody has ever woken up from a nap
wishing they’d done something else.
Melting M&M’s at 2 am,
I haunt the small house like a
hyperactive nightgown.
A ginger boy holds a
gold heart bursting from his chest,
dripping off his fingertips. His mother
pins it to the refrigerator with a magnet
shaped like the great state of Texas.
Everything really is bigger there.
We gather at the quicklime pond
and dip our toes in standing water.
Our digits feed the fishes.
We emerge with fewer parts but more complete.