My Eyes are Green, or Brown

my hair is short, or curly

compilation of basements

I lean shoulders to cracked cement and laugh with them

like we are not all a compilation of basements

balcony air

half a world away

forest-hearted

Living tidepool to tidepool,

does not make us less.

houseplant diaries

we were just wasting time

dusty peaches

withering

all my poems are letters to the same people

year of gentleness