all the little deaths

there is always a little death hanging

over every new beginning. as if the start is

a kind of dissevering, slicing & slicing until

there is nothing left but a tiny gap in time

& space. an instant beginning. what is this

force trying to claw its way out from

beneath the surface of my skin?

a form of shame, a form of suffering

in waiting. mathematically speaking,

i am an equation beginning with

reversed division, always in danger of

misplacing myself in the moment. i am weaving

the threshold of pleasure: slender collisions

of secrets wrapped in the sweetest mistakes

i ever made. territorial beginnings invoke

the atlas of your face & it never looked so good.

---

Stevi-Lee Alver is an Australian writer and tattoo artist. She lives in the middle of Brazil with her wife. She loves bush walks and waterfalls but misses the ocean.

read more of my poetry here:

Stevi's Poetry

Read my poetry heremedium.com