Caitie, can we talk please?
about cutting heart strings
propagating them in soil
how fast does loneliness grow
and when it does, what is it good for?
Sophia, can’t you just listen?
why does it always start in the kitchen
so deep and full I don’t even notice
hot water kissing burns into my fingers
gazing through glass, remembering
fingers curled around glistening gold
Gracie, don’t you know?
every March is the same doldrum
memories bloody and broken and
what good are bruises that don’t heal,
veins and arteries to carry pain
that isn’t real?
Maisie, what’s the problem?
with donating organ systems
as long as I don’t miss them?
I wouldn’t, you know, dream
of dead girls, if I didn’t own
a brain to do so
Ashley, I know you’re there
tell me, how can some thoughts
be arresting as iron weights
boring through my flesh and others,
as spontaneous and weightless as
a summer dress?
Lyndsey, please make it go away
the shadows, I mean, when the sun drops
beneath the tree line and all I can do
is remember grief, my very own skin
prying away the layers with crowbars of sins