“Give ourselves/ to sky, a whole second/ wrapped in breath/ when our bodies/greet nothing /but air.”
“what called girl/ is marked /wrong mouth/ but makes/ new voice/ stutter made/ sound out/ swallowed wings/ stumbled wet/from jewel tongue.”
“but your heat/says different, this collect/of humid breath, /your body wielding/ every limb, root/it knows/ to make the same/ gash of discord…”
“Don’t abandon the flawed self-/ portraits of difficult eyes, lonely/ gender, shadowed sadness, unraveling/ red ribbons, spoken bones, harsh art/ of the body that should never flinch.”
“Forgive that you are always walking/ into the room of it, that you fill it with words, /with dreaming.”
“When you leave people intending to grow,/ don't expect to come back/ to the room of your childhood,
/or the humid attic of your first love. / People don’t stay where you love them.”
Krysten Hill
Poems
Events
Blog
Pics
Bio
Contact
Krysten Hill © 2014 All Rights Reserved