Unraveled

once untied from the stories that wove me

have i become a pile of string

a sweater unraveled

##

do trees also ask themselves to grow?

is it self-awareness that pushes them

teaches them to yearn for sunlight

##

around the corner from a childhood home

there was a woman who harvested amethyst

carefully placed on the windowsills

adorning the walls up and up

floor to low ceiling

##

peeking through purple shards

watch through glass

the green grass dancing

##

can i be unwound? am i unwound?

where do i begin and end

whined, unwind

wind

##

windowsill window wind

a gust of wind with each inhale

knocked off balance each exhale

winded

##

i keep smudging my titles

am i moving forward too quickly?

should i let the ink dry first

i can’t wait anymore

##

pages covered in smeared sentences

much preferred

over-emptiness is nauseating

##

i wonder what pópo thinks

of the hello kitty sewing machine

sitting on a desk in ma’s room

##

fingertips fragile and fierce

flinchless despite needles

poking and prodding

are you proud of me, pópo?

##

there’s an image of me hanging

in mama’s house

a square of white silk

black embroidery floss shaping the contours of my face

##

in the midst of eight ancestors

##

squares of white silk

black embroidery floss shaping their faces

hanging somewhere somehow

##

i heard i’m right in the center of everyone

##

embraced on all sides

wind chimes blasting ancestral laughter

traveling through best friend ears

to reach me

##

teach me the difference

between untying knots and breaking curses

i do both barehanded

is it proper procedure?

##

i have been

suturing wounds with tearstained whispers

concocting homemade ointment [ingredients; stomach acid, spare sorry’s, sea salt, and safflower]

##

axe in hand, splitting open locked chests

cabinets closed far too long

skeletons

scatter on impact

##

all that is left is bones

and me

unraveling

##

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