by Paula Gil-Ordoñez Gomez
my footsteps feel heavy
in my childhood
backyard tonight as i relight
i feel my nose touch
flame and i burn
up it’s a subtle
touch and i’m grateful
for my lips pressed
against a nurturing
burn i feel go through
my throat it hurts
but it’s kind as well
sometimes i feel
really beautiful
when my cheeks
are flushed and my hair
is golden but
i envy the girls
who never get cold
built with frail frames
that don’t hide
under swarms
of jacket and scarf
i don’t even want
the second cig
anymore but i finish
everything i start
for the most part
the last ash falls
into a bruised plant
and i collect it
back into my empty
can so my parents don’t
recognize this vice
the burn feels good
on my skin and i slightly
wish there was more
to pick up i want
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