Pinch the bridge of my nose—
is it wrong,
too wide,
too flat?
Prepare your rust-covered tools,
bite into my bone,
smooth like your dream ski slope.
Whittle me down
to a shape that’s not my own.

Our shoes are different sizes
Toes curling to fit in the space
Aching pain bites—
Oh, to be included

Piano lessons since birth
But a violinist is yearned for
Tutorials all night—
Oh, to be included

If there were ever any doubt
Than I am wholly and utterly in love with you
It has now been thoroughly expunged from my conscious
The clanging and drilling of your voice
High pitched and shrill and the hollowness of hammer on nail
The ungentle touch of your never rougher hands

The train car is usually empty at
9 am. Blue plastic seats line both
lengths of the train. The seats are
cold and rock solid. They
join together to form one
elongated bench.

The car is empty now and I am
the first in this lonely train car.

Two lives entwined, yet worlds apart
One is forefront and first seen,
A constant pull, a tearing heart
The other is hidden and forbidden,
A true freedom, lying till eighteen

The applewood boughs were once laden with revenant spring,
Pillars of sanctuary to golden finches lost in flock,
Through throngs of feathered wings batting valiantly against turbulent affairs,
One single creature is mottled by solitude,
For it drives him insane to be so isolated,

Never thought I’d be here again
Pining again
Feeling again
Swept up in the moment again
In a smile again
I thought I was over it
Over romance
Over random chance
Over falling into eyes which linger just too long on mine
But no
Turns out that love is young

father never bothered to fix the leaky faucet 
// why fix things that eventually come undone mija? 
so it 
dripped 
and 
dripped 
and 
dripped 
and 
creaked 
and 
creaked 
and 

As you talk I take notes 
The way you hold yourself 
How you talk 
Your facial features 
Everything about you 
I take notes 

Inspired by Mary Cassatt’s “The Coiffure” 

My name is Hannah
2 pronunciations 
HAN-nah 
and HəN-nah 
2 pronunciations 
2 worlds 

Hannah is America 
Hannah is a song 
Hannah is a cloud 
Hannah is sunny days 
Hannah is a firework 
On my tongue 

Criss, cross, criss, cross. 
My grandmother and I sit next to each 
other with foundation in one 
hand, a brush in the other. 
We blend. 
Grandma’s age spots lighten as 
my white spots darken, unfolding 
the magic of disappearance.

I miss you, the girl who cried during Dumbo
Who sobbed just because someone else was
I miss you, the girl who giggled when she got tucked in at night
Who begged to be read to
Skipped when she was happy
Stomped when she was sad
I miss you and I have no right to

Bare feet stomping smushing moss bare toes gripping green blades of grass bare toes ripping out weeds dirt is stuck under our nails and stained onto our shirts and smeared onto our faces we’re hanging on the branches of the old maple tree clawing at her trunk to climb her limbs there’s bits of ba

To the child I once was, in a time now afar,
I send back my thanks, from the future’s bright star.
For the dreams that you dared, for the hope in your eyes, 
For the laughter that echoed under wide-open skies. 

i am getting older
my hips have grown wider than the great oak trees i used to climb
my face has grown longer
my sweet baby cheeks are hollowing out
and the men of oakland have begun to allow their eyes to linger, for just a moment too long

It seemed clear at the close of a lengthy conversation,
In the cool heat of late Spring.
We have long mourned,
The colonial appropriation of the ancient East.

Isn’t it weird that we know the least about ourselves? As a species, we have conquered nations and created thousands of societies paired with complex languages. Yet, scientists still work to figure out the very thing that sits in all of our skulls. The brain. Where does every thought come from?