Curar.

Photography by Adam Coleman

thirsty. girl.

drink drink

from the well

I’m keeping

stocked

be the pan

that holds

the egg

plop and sizzle

in my grip

grief is

the clean

look up

from the ditch

and smile

big teeth

scrub scrub

scar

ouch and a car

forgotten

in the basement

fingers groping

black night

and catching

soft soft

what is it

opening lids

on heart

how did you get there

baby baby

little babe

learn this texture

in the mouth

with taste

this face

is not my face

what is a face

but a holder

for thought

expression

in the finger

touch

wrinkle in

the brow

and silence

take a sip

of forgive

and Frida

exiting the blast

speckled in

gold. hold

a hurt in a glass

a prize bug

set free

where air

can give the lift

brace beneath

the skirt

i’m just a girl

with hurts

and errors

dig under

the lace

you’ll see

or press

thumb to eye

and feel

beat beat

that’s my pulse

bumping

in skin

most days

she wants to get out

and take shape

all her own

and I say

okay baby

just this once

watch her dance

climb back in

with ribs

and brother lung

tomorrow we do it again

pull a corner

from the wall

watch it

bloom

a tunnel

what if

we saw things

with our nipples

i just had that thought.

you can’t see me

but believe

i’m laughing

pain has made

it

all

funny

again

a crack

the smiling shark

who bites and farts

funny

watch the baby

as he step step

slides

have a laugh

it’s all funny

honey

you’re doing alright

you’re doing alright

you’re doing okay

you’re doing alright