growing pains

it is
the slow
growing
that takes
more
from me

soft
dissipation
smoothing
inwards

seeping
velvet thick
into my
ears

wrapping
around my
lungs

furtive and white

tattooing
hard in
my veins

so that
clutching
my stomach

i wake

in the dark
sobbing

let it be still

i beg

everyone
knows
growing
pains
are the
worst kind

ivy

you smooth
down

body
paralleling
mine

sun
from the window

stretching shadow slits

across your
back

while you, laying your
head on a pillow

eye me wide
as if to say

here i am

you did not ask for me

but i am yours
for just this moment

perhaps more
who is to say

and me
smiling dumb

kissed hard by
desire but

unsure of anything

and wanting wanting
to reach out
and touch you but

i know
and you know—

look, even now
the clouds have shifted course

the ivy
lit from within
lazy in the sun

delicate green
veined against
your window

growing into each other
but to wither and die

and i know
and you know

our
bodies
are nothing

nothing
but shadow and dust

so when you reach
to touch my face

who is to say
i am not
already

gone

sink

when i was
ten

i dove into
the deep end
of the pool

hands hitting
water splitting

sharp

cold up my
veins

plunging whole

oxygen bubbling
whale-like
streams
behind
me

i slipped
into the
silence

light
glimmering
soft blue

sinking sinking
to where it
was deepest

arms floating
gentle, up

here, i heard
nothing
but my
heart

i opened my mouth

let the air escape

listened to the
dull thump
in my ears

i am still here i am still alive

and the
world was
hushed

split open blue
poured out
mosaic

my lungs were young
burning things—

my heart ignored
their cries

i sat, stranded
sunk at the
center

12 ft
glistening
up

thinking
for the first time

what it would
be to die

my soul
suspended
in star soup

floating
glistening

underneath
silence

everything
above
it all

hung steady
between
saturn and venus

listening to
the planet’s rings
sing

pushing straight through
an asteroid belt

i plummet
upwards

breaking the surface
with one giant
splashing breath

lungs humming happy:

for now
for now

it is good to be ten
it is good to be breathing

it is good
just to be

the water
inhales
around me

like a prophecy

the year the birds came

the year the birds came
we caught them
with open hands

plump bodies flapping
hard hard, we
pinned them in

snapping their necks
quick! like
cups we broke
when we were five

plucking clean

we roasted them over
a fire

brittle bones crackling

juice trickling down
our chin, we grinned
and told stories of

yesterday and tomorrow

so the birds became
our lusts
flesh charred
desire

our dreams
small empty
flightless

our guilt
left to rot

after dinner
we became depressed

our stomachs
ached

fingers greased with
fat, we wiped

them on our
naked chests
to signify remorse

prayed earnestly to
all bird gods

hear us
hear us

picking flesh
from between
our teeth

spitting
gristle
onto ground

forgive us
we cried

eyes lifted

waiting waiting

waiting for the
birds to come

again

but our prayers
echoed empty
through burnt rib
cages

tremoring
still warm

on the ground

glistening clean
empty fresh

we licked
our fingers
tasting the salt

like a
wounded dog

crept off
howling
into the night

leaving behind
white carnage

and shatters
of what we

had been

under

the wave
comes

big
beautiful
delicious

delirious
orgasmic
crashing

heavy heavy

hands
to head

bright spots
fizzing

skin eyes

pull
away

hurtful
violet
heaves
down
hot

fresh
ocean
salt

waves hurtling
over over

clutching head
drawing knees

up up to
chin

a soft
sea urchin

my body
swallows
great gulps

rising
to
slurp
the fear

heavenwards

sucking
sweet
glory

the taste
of mothers’
tears

it is too late
to be afraid

of drowning