berlin lit

Michelle Penn

 

Retablo for the obscure

 

            We wear crystals on our eyes & forgive the lands that birthed us. Our bodies are tiny, our feet lithe. They carry us across arrogant highways in a single step. We hide behind balloons, blackbirds, behind our hair & masks of our own faces. We long after paper airplanes in flight. In our dreams, we howl pain into mountains of scree, then button our collars high, never torture a new day with yesterday’s nails. Sometimes, we forget our own names. We slink through headless crowds, fall in love with dust. Our words form pillars, cradling impossible houses. We bleed light, yet we’re fleeting, rare, like comets.