stationary

she likes the way the creek flows through their eyes. its force calls her name. listening attentively, she falls into it, spiraling into blurry temperatures for seasons at a time. the cycle continues again and again. drenched in defeat, the flow of gases catches her innocence, hanging her to dry with the white linens on a summer afternoon.

before its sway can pull her again, rugged rope ties her ankles to the hidden corners of earth. her ears are plugged with ringing oceans and lotus petals bury her rods and cones. she is still current.

with time, stability forms near her ribs, strengthening the arched dam by her crown. her channels flow swiftly, like the gliding flock of birds that drink from her streams. elliptical arms amplify waves, massaging nadir to rise with zenith, arranging crest waves to circulate time.

necklace

sequence chains loosen threaded knots. needles at first glance cut the skin only to pierce through the pain. deep within shades of darkness, sleeps an amber clasp, protecting a jewel. its radiance magnetically embraces the pupa. all around its glow, flows osculating feelers, sparking fate into polaroids for all to wear...

play

accordion lines collapse into her lungs, expanding her body in expression, pouring tides of tones through her pallets, while bringing semi-colons to rest. some days, she plays pitches that force the ground to hover under shades of safety. but it's only when she listens that her articulation resonates in lullabies. afraid of the stark contrast, she removes the straps to the box. holding her fragile fingers, she sits in silence. it's a blackout in loneliness; until she remembers she is the instrument. her signature is not within the sounds. she must simply let the songs play, play, play on and through