yejunee

i am reinventing invention 
the creation of creation 
of transformation, of 
a butterfly unfolded from the chrysalis, 
and what is to come of 
disorder 
is not a meaning 

and i'm counting out fallen stars in a jar 
to store the memories of when 
constellations were still in my grasp 
silver stories told in photons 
and if there's ever been a love letter 
a ghost story 

her mouth is pink 
and sweet with cream 
and she offers up her secrets to me 
the promise engraved 
in the curl of her 
little finger. 

the attic is dark at the witching hour 

i am trying to 
speak 
i am trying to 
find the words 
that won't come 
out 
and they fill the underside 
of my skin, the otherside 
of a blank page, ink letters 

there is a poem in my sternum 
that won't shake loose, and 
its claws stick tight in my throat 
and i cannot breathe, i have never 
been able to breathe, i was born 
to drown.