She was exhausted,
tired of fakery, of casual dishonesty,
tired of the boundaries enforced by timid, pinched governesses
who were absolutely sure that in pushing beyond
they would most certainly fall
off the edge of the world.
In a growing, half-hidden corner of her heart,
she dared to know that she could fly if she were just willing to jump.
She knew she was begging,
begging to be seen,
though she refused to look into her own mirror,
instead lamenting the faithless relationships she had,
how none seemed willing to take on the burden of seeing another soul;
but then maybe it was asking too much of another human being.
Maybe the human body could only encompass a single soul
and the tiniest part of another.
Maybe to truly see the soul of another was akin to looking on the face of god,
overwhelming and necessarily fatal.
Maybe we are only meant to journey parallel,
catching sight of each other’s souls
only through the comforting blur of
peripheral vision.


The vein of light appeared one day, catching her small and curious eye.
She pecked away at it on instinct until it grew into a crack, and then
everything that had been protecting her fell apart.
She pulled herself, wet and bedraggled, through the jagged edges
of the shell in which she’d been created,
in which she’d been fed,
in which she’d grown strong,
in which she had grown intolerably confined.
It was a good start, that egg,
but it was never meant to be a home.


My lover,
I want to feel your kisses
drip like summer honey
from your lips and
across my shoulders
I want my skin to be
in a blanket of your fingerprints
but warming me just the same
I want to feel the shock of
your mouth
in the palm of my hand
racing deep in my belly
on a direct line
I want to feel you inside me
like a second soul