Notes on the Unaddressed
- Night is a room. The walls are the color of disclosure. You may look through the windows but its ivory plumes are folded.
- You once again mistake composure for compliance. The back of my dress dips low but is locked with a key I’ve already swallowed.
- When a bottle of champagne pops into a bouquet of violets I drink each petal.
- Moths often imitate other animals. I smear lipstick across my mouth until you can’t help but notice when I’m not around.
- When you say “You have no heart,” an indigo curtain drops to the floor.
- To refuse this rain is to refuse that you are searching for your own heart, that I will not mean peace for you, that in this griefless light I’ll plant a thousand orchards.
- A beautiful fever comes over me. An arrow splits; my veins run gold.