first home.
pinched paper bustling
feathery origami sensation
of doubled and trebled thoughts
scattershot to a thousand distant stars
and it smells like burnt bark
and it sounds like deciduous leaf mumblings
as if the forest of my mind has remembered
the burning heart
of its first home
let us.
i want rumpled pages with frayed edges
like torn lips
and ink splattered margins
birthmarks like galaxies
empty pages like open road
how fast can I write
how many words
will spring up on the horizon
to spread me from here to there
how many words like shrubs like sycamores like cliffs
will rise to scrub clean the sky and block my view
of who I once was
i want pens with sharp nibs and indigo ink
that puddles around every period
so sentences end with a revelation that displaces spacetime
now there are the folded edges of other dimensions
to drag across my face and my body
until my bones exhale their secrets
seeding the blackness between the stars
the frayed edges are buried deep
canyons and wombs and eternities away from here
let us bleed and drink and find our way home
***
Stunning imagery and music-thank you, Natasha, for these poems and thank you SLM for publishing them!
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