diagram of a star

here is the foot print heart & here is
the field of eye lashes. here is
where i entered & shut the door
like a jam lid. breathing in handfuls.
inside, the star told me all her secrets
but i didn't tell her mine. 
all love is lopsided, isn't it?
she took me to the pile of hair 
shaved off in a fit of mourning.
another neighbor who died too soon.
sirens roost like chickens in our life.
lay eggs full of suns we don't need yet
she showed me her collection of belly buttons.
i told her "sometimes i don't know
how i am supposed to keep going."
she stroked my head. took me down her spine
to a hallway of mirrors. she told me
she does not go down the hallway alone 
for fear of wasting the light needed. told me 
everyone has a hallway like this.
i could not find my own & wondered
what this means for me. i don't even have
a vase to put the lily when it grows.
before i left her body we lay awake 
on her day bed of elbow bones. 
she admitted, "i am not wise, not at all."
"neither am i," i said even though
i think she is still wise 
despite maybe not knowing it. i want
to show people my body like this.
almost as a museum. here is my dead pillows.
here is the room of doors. behind each lives
a nest of bees for every wound.
psychologically speaking, i am always close
to opening every door just to see
what happens. i have a purse of doorknobs 
that i like to carry with me if i'm going
to visit a new friend. "forgive me
for forgetting again to be alive."
the star sighs & says, "don't worry. 
you are still so good."

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.