we could spend all day in bed

i’ve been noticing the magic’s back

we haven’t climbed into each other’s skin

in the last few days since the mark

the small pup curls into himself

i will follow this ritual

pull legs into chest

hold and breathe



the red rose is turning black

wilting and yet

holding onto petals that were already dead

upon placing the stem in water

the last fragments of leaf


or clinging

it’s the same

a wish to rise from the dead



if there is one thing that we must learn from ancient tales

so long that you can rework them to fit into a single canon

“magic cannot bring back the dead”

all we can do is hold out our hands and absorb the energy before the last let go

and then shake the devil lose


It’s almost time

time’s up

and while there are many things on the much needed or wanted or to-do list

–a space to lay this head-achy sack of blood and bones

time’s finally beginning

the point: we are starting over

and yet we are still at a place that is strained of kindness in transition

a broken ankle that won’t heal

if you continue to roll on by

this stone hasn’t gathered any moss

when we keep sweeping away debris

i drift in and out and remember practice

noting the passing of too much time spent searching for a home

since the desert faded to what it is