I wanted to be a hummingbird.
It made sense to long for rapid wings and the ability to hover always—
to be Huitzilopochtli taming my snakes.
Sometimes though, the thought exhausts me and
I want to be a slow horse, a tennis shoe.
My mother’s psychic says, everyone essentially wants
the same thing as everyone else, a sense of belonging, a coming home.
Maybe my limbs are made
mostly for decoration,
like the way I feel about
persimmons.
Here is my sacrifice: my hummingbird landing in a stranger’s palm.
Ada LimonAll night I dreamt of bonfires and burn piles
and ghosts of men, and spirits
behind those birds of flame.
I cannot tell anymore when a door opens or closes,
I can only hear the frame saying, Walk through.
Tags: change dream destiny bonfire
I am not obsessing.
I am just sitting here
perforating this post-it
with a push-pin.
Tags: poetry ada-limon lucky-wreck
Think crucial hanging.
Think crayon orange.
There is one low, leaning
heart-shaped globe left
and dearest, can you
tell, I am trying
to love you less.
Tags: love
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