156.

I watched two girls embrace in defiant answer
to some question: yes, we are here
and they kissed with cracked leaf lips, desperately
like every gust of wind was out to tear them

we all kiss in the shadows
of men, spitting flower petals on the pavement
as we unbind our hands to pray
at the alters of freckled knees and elbows
of softness and slope

no, we are not going away
but we wait for nightfall sometimes
before we break our fingers and show each other
our blood and bones
sometimes we think we need cover of darkness
to revel in the pinkness of our bed sheets
to braid our lipstick mouths

these girls did not know
that half the passersby were unfazed.
they were bristling with spears and armor
accustomed to battle by now
and terrified, and in love

155.

tired of writing myself weak, punching
keystrokes with cracked fingernails
swallowing second-guesses and spitting them back at you
printing angry poems into wallpaper so I won't forget
on mornings like this, when I wake up with bile in my throat
and I can't remember why

tired of writing myself weak, raking
fingernails over my skin and leaving red marks
and pretending you put them there
I am terrified of waking up on mornings like this
and forgetting you, and forgetting what you did
and having nothing to write about

154.

the day is sweeping sunlight fingers through my hair,
brushing gold over my eyelids, and I have never noticed
how my skin can candle-glow at noontime

and the breeze has spoken to the leaves
coaxing them to sigh away from their branches
and land on my shoulders like a spray of freckles

this is the first day of the first year with my eyes open
stretching languid muscles, testing my strength
and I am bathing in my own breath

so I kiss my soil feet and say a quiet prayer
to the god of secrets - crossing my head and heart,
a promise to keep this between the earth and me