dreamt a color called harvest, i’m no longer hungry

all these aspen leaves burnt marigold.

the green of spruce a blush so blue

you’d call me greedy any day but this one,

which was heaven-sent if heaven were

a mirror & also horribly sad sometimes

& we named the space between trees

& she had horses, star-maned, tail held high.

i was higher than any home, un-hopeless

for six hours, drunk on gathering & grace.

mercy may have a hold on me, it was easy

to imagine. this could be like home.

gifted

you do not have to be good / at tests

to get someone to love you. see?

there’s always something left unsaid

& mostly it’s at present. watch me say:

i am not hungry.