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How many lives have you lost?
Poetry is a space where I can embrace my weirdness
The black widow killed herself.
Blame it on the magicians’ faultiness.
An aging hurt is hard to vanquish
Watch the mosquito-eating bats
swim over her loneliness.
Her blue flesh lies open,
like an addiction you can no longer hide.
Her guts torn apart with a dagger
Is there a name for all the loss?
Rest assured, I am told, she has turned into an octopus
Grill all the pain
Or rather, transform it
Recycle, re-incarnate, renew, rebirth
Unceasing movement
Nothing is lost, everything is transformed
There is no other place to go
but to become this earth that still breaths
How many lives have you lost?
Faith, I heard, may help
Plums too, especially the sweet ones
And memories, the sweet ones too
Grief is a five letter word
The octopus swims freely in the water
