Imagine being brushed by the air enough times. Imagine you're unrecognizable.

.

He closed the door. January bit through the walls.

The bed kept the warmth seventeen minutes, then none. No witness but the sheets.

I thought I stayed.

I inventoried the fridge. The cream had turned. I was late to the news of myself.

I didn't starve. I just never came back to the table.

Even hunger has standards.

I left later, quiet enough that the air forgot me. I went the way women go who survive too long.

Afterward I moved through the rooms without arriving. I loved like a light you forget to turn off.

when everything else fell away you brought me back to show me how easy it is to fall

I detest how easy I thought it was to know myself to continuously learn I only know the failures of us together, you could never satisfy me

you taste awful I know you can't save me you are the location where I save myself

by Bejan Matur translated from the Turkish by Nell Wright

Cover my hands with dirt until they grow flowers

Trying to keep my hands clean is like trying to keep a fish from swimming into a net or a bird from flying into a window. We do what’s in our nature, even if it kills us.

Everything that’s ever touched me sticks splinters in my skin and burns memory into muscle and I don’t have the heart to let any of it go.

I’ve split my knuckles holding on to a peach summer sunset. Got them bloody harvesting the full flower moon. Now I want forget-me -nots kissing my fingertips and star jasmine shooting across my palms. Give me violets instead of another reason to cry.

Even the dirt under my nails was loved once. If I plant seeds there, maybe some good will come of all the mess.