BASIC MATH


FINGERPRINTS

She would lick her fingers, dainty
hands, when I made her pie. She'd
fall into a puddle, dreaming of liquid
feelings, feelings that felt smooth,
down the throat without the pain
of swallowing a pill. Always they
felt to her like swallowing burrs, stuck
in soft tissue on their way down,
clogging the mind, nerves zinging
with the pain of life. One day
it all made sense, the bizarre
moment when she knew that all
she needed was a band-aid, and
gentle hands. When I made her pie,
she would lick her fingers, getting
last raspberry notes to a red tongue.

The pain of living is like that.




AND ONE MORE PERSONAL ONE, I'm NOT SCARED TO SHARE


Alright, so maybe this one is a little scary. But to know you can never
have your own children, ever, that is scary too. So sharing is harder,
much harder then sharing with the one you love.


WEIGHT


ABSTRACTIONS
Moments after birth
we weigh them, as
if to asses their life.
To see how much
they are worth, how
much weight will
make the 14 karat
child. And yet every
child fits perfectly
into their mother's
protecting arms,
a weight she'll carry
forever. Heavy weight
and light weight children,
the ballasts in their
homes holding
relationships together
or shredding them apart. How can youweigh a person, especially a child
whoknows so little (and yetso much more then you)
by the cool numbers on
a medical scale? Aren't
they really made from
things we can't define?
Made from what they
learn in kindergarten
about how being a bully
makes you feel strong,
or how a paint brush
can blend colors like
your mother's tears.
Everything that makes
them: the scrapes,
their friends, and mostly,
you, their parents and
protectors.



TO YOUI won't weigh you, oranyone else. I won't put you on a scale
thatmeasures everything youare. I don't need you to
be a 14 karat child, you
are already precious. I
need to have this weight
of you in my arms, to ground
me here, because I am
a faint balloon, there will be
nothing to hold me here,
my parents will die, and my
sisters will fall in love,
they won't need me anymore.
I could fill my life with
causes, but my stomach
will always be hollow,
filled with helium for each
breath I take. Sooner or
sooner yet, I will be able
to float, and there will
be no one to hold me
here. There will be no
one who needs me like
you would. So then, when
I can float I might wonder
about how bad and how
good weight is, the thing
that keeps you here, but
that thing that's always
weighing how much you
mean while you're here.








FOR MEBut you're not here now;and you won't be. I don'treally believe in
miracles, and if I do, it's simply because these skeleton words dull my
feeling. You can't be here,
even if you wanted. This
life and earth and history
will go on and on without
me, and I - a balloon, will
float up into the clouds,
flickering quietly,
into my own death.




Penned by my hand on the 5th of Niuran, in the year 131 MA.