[ missing family ]
A smear of your lipstick and pink cake frosting clouding the spoon you left on the table. Here I am on my fourth margarita. The crumpled wrapping fistfuls of wrapping paper are like fitful bursts of color in the corner of my vision.
I haven't the heart to get down to the sandy golden worm in the bottom of that bottle of Tequila. Liquid desert sunrise with a spiny cactus heart and the palpative pace of lizards. A salted lower lip.
Myrrh. A single star. The gifts of wisemen.
Between the jasmine and the laundry line clipped with bright paper lanterns, you're holding a balloon. In the polaroid the slip you like to wear as a dress looks like the hand-me-down of a ghost. It hovers in a static around your hips. Your mouth is a slur of a smile. ( you loved so dearly how I told you the antiquated Spanish for popcorn meant 'small doves of corn')
Come. back. home.
I haven't the heart to get down to the sandy golden worm in the bottom of that bottle of Tequila. Liquid desert sunrise with a spiny cactus heart and the palpative pace of lizards. A salted lower lip.
Myrrh. A single star. The gifts of wisemen.
Between the jasmine and the laundry line clipped with bright paper lanterns, you're holding a balloon. In the polaroid the slip you like to wear as a dress looks like the hand-me-down of a ghost. It hovers in a static around your hips. Your mouth is a slur of a smile. ( you loved so dearly how I told you the antiquated Spanish for popcorn meant 'small doves of corn')
Come. back. home.