“The true poem rests between the words.”

Vanna Bonta

01.27.2019 - 11:08 p.m.
MUSCLE MEMORY
My brain knows this loneliness well -
it has seen it many times before;
yet my heart still fights in protest,
saying it hurts just like the first time -
maybe even more.

---

02.03.2019 - 7:48 PM
LUCK RAN OUT
I'm not saying it's your fault,
and I'm not saying it's mine. 
You may hate me for it
and I guess that's fine. 

But when the blood spills over,
when you've run out of time - 
please bury me in clover,
and make my coffin shine.

---

02.04.2019 - 8:27 PM
52 CARD PICKUP
My brain is a scrambled 
deck of cards;
sometimes I can put them
 back together
in a neat pile,
but no matter how hard I try
there are always some 
facing the wrong way.

04. 14. 2019 - 11:09 PM
TONGUE TIED
She rolled the words
around her mouth
and tasted them -
metallic and angry, like 
the coat of blood 
that would line her teeth
when she unclamped them 
from her tongue.

11.18.2019 - 12:04 AM
BOREAL
As the light recedes into the horizon,
the north wind seep through
cracks in the window
and slits in the door.
My toes are cold
against the bedroom floor,
and I wonder when 
my blood will unthaw, 
and when 
I might feel the light
once again.