muscle bound she says of me as she prods
her way into the space between my spine and shoulder blade, and I can only
imagine my muscles as roots potted up too
tight, for too long, in a pot
too small,
and I wonder how they might unfurl into the bare
earth again.

–

l is using the cookie cutter molds to shape blue playdoh at playtime
and as she offers me a vanilla chocolate cake with sprinkles, the
heart shaped cake
breaks in two uneven pieces.
a broken heart i say, and take both of its parts.
what? she says, are you going to eat it?

–

I like to imagine ears as flowers with roots to the heart he says. I feel a warmth rise in my chest. silence. and then we begin to sing another song.