sun it rises

concave, my arms are around my knees and i have this pillow taken from the corner of the couch in your living room that was a mistake. i can't be bothered to perk the corners of my eyes and flood those dry spots with the surrounding, penetrating sun. i'm in the t-shirt i wear every day but it's thinned out from the way i sleep in it every night. my body is thinned out, too, from the way i live in it every day. the sleeves of my shirt are huddled atop my shoulders. i like how i feel so small beneath the reaching cherry blossom trees, dappling gently in the light wind. if any one still inhabited the crook of my neck, they would smell the wind and grapefruit and sugar beet hair creme - the only contribution i'm willing to give to my feminine responsibilities. the air is rarefied but cold enough to make me aware of the gaps between my teeth when i seethe it in. right now i'm empathizing with the spots of shadow on the ground that aren't lit up in small budding patches of blurry light. the elastics in my underwear have nothing to hug and hang a little limp and showy in the cotton. right now i want this privacy this peace forever as i sit so small and the trees they arch and the sun it rises and i observe through my fanned eyelashes.

witch daughter

tired green. bleeding yellow. why do you drape your clothes around your body that way? lips are pale and swollen as if the colour has been bitten out. a peach bobbing in skim milk. split ends snake across your skin. your thick flannel shirt hangs out. witch daughter; you wait for someone to notice. everyone notices. your biggest secret is your crooked bottom row of teeth. stop making me feel this way. witch daughter, born on the wooden table your grandfather made. your legs are small, delicate, isolated posts. everything winds around them. ivy. searching hands, cold. over-sized garments, warm breath. you look up at your mother. you lie too close to the fire, the heat bubbling the skim on your shoulder. you need an answer. you look up at your mother, in the tree. she is dead, and the branches pierce her limbs. come down. how can you coax her lifeless body down? you are the daughter of the witch. you are also the daughter of the lumberjack. you possess no real power. except power over me.