from Claws this Pause
In a dream a bear cub came to me
to tell me I would die without glory, and I did
not cry, for somehow I knew this had always been
true. I thanked him by offering my hand
to shake or eat, whichever
is more appropriate in dreams these days.
He refused both,
mumbled something about being
a germaphobic vegan, two things I know little about
so I said nothing as I watched him walk away.
I woke the next morning, still chained to the life
of a man I did not respect, a man who did not
even know the entirety of my name, and I decided
the bear was a messenger meant to bleed
me like a bullet. I gave myself up
to the transfusion, walked out of the upside down
life I had been hiding under, and tried
once again to teach my eyes the difference
between the shapes of shadow and sun.
scream like air
that isn’t there. I
can see them, mocking
me from shallow shadows.
I long to play
inside their expansive embrace,
but I am collapsing
inside myself as if I were
a reflection of their falling.
Call me Ishmael
and hand me a harp.
I have every intention
of singing as I go down
with this invisible ship.
I Am Crucifixion
abandoned idol, hanging in penance
for others’ sins. Stripped to the waist, nailed
to splintering symbol of my own faith.
Wearing crown of thorns, I am blessed rose,
marking universal grave. Sacrificed,
I am anonymous figure, assuming blame. I am
mother, daughter, holy ghost
of flesh discarded. I am expendable
angel, dying in plain sight.
This is Affliction
I did not want the weight of place,
refused the floor. I chose
to dangle like the ghost of a hybrid
orchid, picked by childish hands
that did not understand my vibrancy.
In a glass cage with no ceiling,
I dream and sing of absence.
I am cursed with the gift of shatter,
but am unable to use it for myself.