BDAY

I am fully entitled, for today, to request:

Rearrange my bones to make space

for my organs to fill a wider body.

As today, I felt it again —

the air escaping my chest.

Born in summer, I spent each last birthday

melting winters. Some colder than others.

Moneyless

in a country of dreams (and you can dream of a money tree)

I feel again lonely,

and in the wrong body.

The wrong plane,

and I ordered the wrong

not even that affordable

cake.

So now, you must

give me wizardry.

Give me greener thumbs.

The thunder and the lightning: bang! Out of my arms.

A different type of hollowness which allows me

to preserve shame.

As in pickle it, or spare me it.

I feel entitled to what just happened.

Screaming Leave Me Alone

praying, let me go;

imploring confused cries in the wrong soul.

Pfa’. It happens all over again.

Green big bang.

Hot

and splash.

Cold and ashes on ashes

of all the things that have now

resurfaced.

Rearrange me,

I have no will.

Open yourself to me —

In every cryptic letter,

in every iteration

I just begged to be changed.