picked;

we are born
heavenly
on this earth.

we have gone
across planes,
our paths beaten
by our hands,
drums in palms,
plains flourishing.

we have learned to walk
one step, relearned,
learned to breathe
one breath, relearned,
a collection of motions,
a celebration of chords.

we have revolved
around celestial bodies
with resolved valour,
solving the unknown
with new paths,
versed wise patterns.

we have leaned into
heat’s given opulence
with poise –
it rose before us,
it bloomed before us,
it calla lilied before us.

every day
we alleviate
to levitate in
the rediscovery
of uninterrupted space.


lungs;

inhale.

a knotted me
twisted in a knot,
catching april’s snow
with strands of wool
draped over
the body,
the limbs,
the bones.

hold.

the knot is just that –
a knot,
or the looping
and twining of
two lungs caught,
fives lobes stuck
in a breath,
held.

exhale.

the knot unknots,
the course resumes
in spirited strings,
imbuing skin
with light,
melting the cold,
this silent nomad
that had paused
on my every edge.