“being devoured can make you cry” – Robin Coste Lewis
The earth is burning.
The jade tree hedges down the street are dying.
Stores release their fall line of sweaters, scarves, and jackets.
I have something to say, anything, nothing at all.
I write love letters in the middle of the night.
I think about your broken tooth, back, heart.
She spoke about representation and desire.
Our wars are a proxy for absence or relentless regrets.
I think we all
want to escape
to start over
to be reborn.