Tuesday, September 5, 2023

We hold our hopes so feverishly,
first the flush, then blanch of our fingers.
We forget their fragile bones. They crunch
in our fists—wee ribs puncturing lungs
that would breathe deep purples in our souls
if we let them grow. Loosen our grip
and we find their crumpled forms bounce back
like petals unfolding, wings unfurled,
buds and breasts refilling and readied
as our knuckles regain their color.

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love notes
a ritual to start the work week