Today she saw a bird,
black-feathered, orange-beak it was
and next to it sat another
together on a fence.
She’d never had a best friend
So the pen became her therapist
as well as her mentor
She made the mint pages of a book,
her biggest patrons.
Her favourite blouse leaves a trail
of ox-blood and maroon.
She dazzled in her recent look
with a recycled version of her former drag.
Her shade is a tinted mural
of interrupted dreams she’ll dream again
but her favourite pants is a pair
of unresolved feeling she’s too scared to detach from.
On her face, you’ll notice a dent
the dissembled puzzle pieces of her past lovers.
The pages of her soul are dog-eared and ripped.
The beauty of her heart was lost in transition.
That’s why she likes to smoke tobacco
and watch the fumes dance off her skin.
She said I have to chose
between a burning city and a secluded mine
it’s not at all easy for me
because my soul burns like embers
and the earth eludes me
maybe I’ll walk to a reef
to let off steam and level my thoughts.
So She laid under the stars
made out familiar faces from the sky.
Her limbs grew warm
like a volcano was erupting inside her.
Her breath waned
like the universe was buried inside her.
She heard a wolf howl
As if it too was craving a real connection.
Then everything went still.
The waves stopped crashing.
The insects stopped mid-flight.
The seconds stopped ticking
At midnight, she was still.
Like a rose waiting to be plucked
until the ground swallowed her whole
and burped up her ashes.
… A rare tenuous connection