xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxechoes of a hate crime
People are made of paper, love affairs,
xxxxxxxanything that tears easily.
A pregnant woman stands under the lunar eclipse,
xxxxxxxcarves a swirl into a tree,
her baby is born with this same mark on his thigh.
It’s just like the earth to come between the sun and the moon
xxxxxxxand cause this kind of mystery.
Point at a rainbow, and it will plummet and slice your finger off.
Use your lips instead, to show others what you are looking at.
Don’t stand on high rocks or they will push you into the sky,
xxxxxxxand you will be pressed like a flower in a book.
People are made from rain showers, hatred, smears of spit,
xxxxxxxanything that might evaporate instantly.
That night, the moon was a true blood red,
not the pale rust of this moon, this morning.
xxxxxxxAn entire human body coated red with blood,
xxxxxxxexcept where a path of tears washed through.
Don’t stare at the moon
xxxxxxxor it will follow you persistently like a stray cat that you have fed.
Don’t hold out your hands when the sun is shining,
xxxxxxxor you will burn continually with possibility.
People are made of buckets of sand, sequins of clay, desire,
xxxxxxxanything that washes away easily.
Don’t inhale too deeply, the scent of fallen leaves
pasted to the forest floor after a fresh rain,
xxxxxxxor you will be repeatedly stepped on.
Don’t count the seeds in a mound of bear scat
xxxxxxxor just as many clouds will split open above your head.