She names the moon on her ceiling
After me
I name myself and try to feel
The gold inside my skin
I write and give it to the fire
Watch the paper crackle
And the smoke rise
Into the winter air
I read her palm and know
She will find her way
Out of the minotaur’s spiral
We stick stars on her ceiling
And paint our friend’s hair red
I read my palm and stay silent
Because my bull-eyes
And human flesh
Bind me.
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