X.After a century, the first colony
of bluebirds flew out of my mouth.
IX.This morning, when I said my name
before the mirror, a sunflower broke
out of it. VIII. I have witnessed too many
crashing within this body, and I wonder
if I’ll one day develop immunity against
this violence. VII. The CT scan reveals
flowers sprouting from the base of my
ventricles. Perhaps this would account
for the nectar on my tongue. VI. In this
transterrestrial habitat, the wind runs
across my skin, brewing a kind of music
—forlorn, yet tender. V. The sun’s ray falls
on my cracked flesh & I transmute into
an hologram of grace. IV.Gravity becomes
fluid & the sky only rains crystalflake.
III. Buried within my chest are strands of
synthesized miracles. II. Most times what
molds us can also catalyze our decay. Even
the genesis of a scar can be a lovely kiss.
I. If I ever go missing, search for me among
the congregation of bluebirds; at the wake
of dusk when they retire into their nest.