so you aren’t struck by lightning
& regardless this culture has no myths
about lit women anyway
*
the animal spooled in his own unwinding
calls you mother in some dreams
other times someone reads your palm
shaking their head, saying, no stars
align, no stars align
*
the sun decides you aren’t worth it. it’s true
the sky’s chakra is never wrong : peach puddles
lining the horizon. you dip your toes
in runoff, think of white divinations
soaring over a synth
*
broken, you won’t eat the raspberries, say
you shouldn’t eat what will stain
*
you sit at the mouth of the river
alone, like always, like you never have
before. it sounds like it’s singing baby
please go please but you know
no one tells the dead they’re not wanted anymore
