we went to basketball
in the broken glass desert. it was recess
& everyone held a skull to play with.
wind of daggers. the vultures
playing their ancient flutes.
a carcass is never a thing that is
but always a thing that comes.
on both ends of the school day i wore masks.
here is my future cosplaying self.
the self who believes i'm going to grow up.
then, by the end, here is my self
pouring plaster for a death mask.
here are my burnt fingers & boy words
etched into my mind from when
the coyotes came & spoke into my mouth.
every now & again a new skull
will roll down the mountain.
we chase it like it's a bowl of fruit.
dust kicked up across the land.
we dream of knowing our ages again.
some days i believe i am in the fourth grade
& others i am certain i am in high school.
on the best days i am a chrysalis
& everyone forms a circle around me
to watch & take guesses about
what i will become. i always become
a boy girl or i guess sometimes a girl boy.
inside though i dream of sunflower seeds
& teeth. my own skull rings like a bell.