i consider myself bare,
stripped of my dignity,
of my ability to fly good
words to an ear.
like a gnat, a disregarded
plea, i face winter
prepared for the bright sun.
my mind snows
little big thoughts of
tattooing myself,
one sleeve at a time,
into a shadow, a corner
a wall, so that i will
never trip over
malicious eyes
in the center.
the cold numbs me,
in a foreseeable,
unstoppable way,
and i forget
that seasons
change until
the sun falls before me.
i consider myself as
getting better.
moving with the water
instead of letting it burst
my stomach.
this river tastes of all
the world, and it is
a beautiful thing when
it does not choke you.
does not freeze over, and leave
you wondering if the fish
are ever happy or just
swimming.
does not flood the wrinkles
of your brain and drag you
to the day when wrinkles
pull down the skin of your face,
down the strings of your lips.
a gnat circles me now,
and lands in my palm.
i just want a hand to hold,
but i meet
broken wings.
too
small to see,
too heavy to keep.
my arm drops,
drops,
drops.
i consider myself as reaching,
forever and always right here,
an illuminated finger away.
-V
