Hysteria
My window is a salad bowl of leafy greens.
I slide open the lid to inhale my memory
and to exhale surrender.
I have given up.
I have given out.
I have given in.
I was taken for granted and stretched beyond my means.
Staring at the sunset, I find hope in alchemy,
but then again, hope is the defining weakness of my gender.
Incantation
When I'm with him, austerity is broken
by a row of white chisels and hammering laughter.
This stoic rock erodes like giggles.
A myriad of minutia are grains of sand swept out to sea,
and I'm comforted by the cracks between his teeth.
They're like caverns of a wondrous cave.
I could float through them,
carried by his voice to the belly of his soul,
and sleep a spell.
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