Читать книгу Happy, Okay? - M.J. Fievre - Страница 22

Paloma

I want to stride

with purpose

& direction

towards something

that fills my body

with bones,

something

dense & heavy

like molten gold.

I want my body

to hum inside itself.

& for that

I need to chart

articles

of a faith I can abide in,

composed

of soft sounds,

like a river uncurling

in a course it sets

for itself.

Your words are pretty,

but they don’t ring

from within

me. They clang

off-key,

like a bell

that’s been dropped

on a hard surface

too many times.

I am ready,

to remember how to laugh

at the littlest things.

Because

when I can hope,

excitement rises

from the back of my neck,

an exquisite

pulse that activates

the nerve endings

in every millimeter

of my flesh.

I am human—mutable.

Nothing

in the world

is otherwise.