born into twilight they made darkness so that we could be light
twisting towards the sun since birth they used our amniotic fluid for lipstick, reapplied after eating steak rare
is the red on their face makeup or blood? same thing.
incomplete since inception because we are the ones we’ve been waiting for
(they shiver)
the gravity of bodies unvaccinated stacked in refrigerated trucks
the parents and grandparents in homes, prisons, their last loneliness
we never got to say goodbye
our hearts broken, again, but they still show up
outside the spa, their sickness a fever of self preservation, and fallacy, and actually all of the same viruses we are fed but they have been overcome.
they are dead skin.
we are the sun, our own stars swirling, gaining mass
“does being a whole world feel like floating?”
i asked the moon, but she doesn’t know anymore than us.
all we have is the trust of the No that seeds in our bellies and makes us hungry for a future that screams and kicks and cries “i want you to live!!!!” as desperately as we have since our first lesson on light
on our birth day, we ejected from darkness, flipped our hearts on by the switch and begged for care.
we have spun since, pulsing with the blinding rays of tomorrow,
a prayer for oneness,
and the wreckage of all the times they made us choose.