Poetry & Prose

this is called dying ground

the body is an officer of death
    this daughter, ill-omened
the art of war
    is an art of
mouths unmade for sweetness
    and bitter words best swallowed
there is no beautiful language
    we wage untitled wars

i am a creature of folklore
    neither filial nor daughter
a daughter-shaped boy
        and dragon-bodied
a dragon-shaped spearhead
        (like sin)

tell me how to love
    without surrender
tell me how to love
    these bloodred scales
and speak your wounds—
    fucking kiss them
life is just
    different hurts
the dragon, teeth to tail, and
    i am not a girl!
        i scream and
you eye me (hungry) all the while