many worlds

All the reasons the heart couldn’t form,

a humble stem/kitsch in your mother’s attic:
there’s a hundred hours left

still,and the sun won’t really set
just sway into someone
                  a world away, 

looks like you, looks like I,
holds a star like space holds/

limitless.

Even how love, was the baby frog I kept
in my pencil case to bring 
along to school,

‘little buddy,’ because the softness
of empathy is there before words
get in the way

but only realized when we talk about it.

It’s likely not many notice
the beauty of someone young
holding their space fully/

or how         outside of god
we hold the words of many gods
we have loved in our memory:

I still will sing
at the end of the world
walk into storms the same way

a ghost can only be ghostly.

Eat the cake! I really think it is fine
and to love peculiar things
like tiny frogs and funny-nosed sloths:
 
because love informs when chaos
gentle at the gate is hot
and all-to-ready.

Fear of Abandonment

I tried to remember back then
when she left for a new world
calling me a woman-child
we like two tongues
tied in our two-headedness

when she saw violence in little girls
having no universe except
a naked root in the sun
and too many endings

like her father’s plinth of madness;
my mother sat upon his thorned heart
and any crack, she shone me
in the dark like starlight, and I,
like a hound kept at it
not knowing
any hunger but hers-

the scant memory of shore lines
the margin of estrangement
forever hanging in the air,

how I give and give
what she could not take.

~Inspired from Aracelis Girmay, The Black Maria, First Estrangement