Teach me? Teach me about birds, please? I never much looked up, head always hung low or tilted from East to West You, tender as lavender You, tender as your deepest laugh You, are what heals when the cold air comes A dream, of together like it'll end, like it'll stain like it'll simmer like stew in its thick I eat too much, because what I'm really hungry for, isn't available. what I'm craving is dialect, indispensable arguments of what thrills, ...what kills what makes wings shiver when dawned from branched wounds? you, stand buzzing, humming, sucking honey from open palms I feed you/ copious, beak gorged/ with finger tipped brush strokes -and ill-timed consequence, there are no phantoms here, you cross your heart and Holy water your eyes your hands clumsily seek my Trinity, you stick pins in, sew me up, as to not spill the words you've whispered in Bio: Ingrid is a Salvi refugee residing in Historic Filipinotown. Her work has been featured in Leste Mag, Electric Cereal, Drunk Monkeys, velvet-tail, amongst others…Her third full-length poetry book 'Zenith' is out now through Editions Du Cygne. She writes through guided ethos or some fleeting alien-hand syndrome and tries to make the jumbled mess in her head, into verse. She hopes it resonates.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
April 2024
Categories |