Monique

14

STARLESS
*

4:57 pm.
on some days, when it rains too hard
with water almost saltier than the pacific
lashing against the world so fiercely
my anger joins the weather
& leaves me,

i want to ravel myself in the sleeping-bag
frayed from 14 years of use
from when we camped in the eastern
side every summer,
where we fell in love
with warm ambiance and pastel skies,
when i zipped stars up in my ribcage

so whenever i would breathe too hard or too fast,
the felicity would swim back
through my veins
& i’d smile.

6:58 pm.
the clouds have been sewed tight again:
pollution
(in this goddamned city)
makes me
so
sad.