Micro

We cut school and rode over to the town everyone said was abandoned.

The small print hints of stars that fracture in the dark.

He’s a man, a good poet, but today I’m tired of being told what I am by men and poets.

Girls are. Girls were.

My sister pays a witch from Etsy to cleanse her, and her house fills with fleas.

Did you remember to bring a piece of sky and a petaled flower?

Let’s pick strawberries

What have I been doing with my hands for them to be hurting?

More so than ever before...

The year is half over.