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Sylvan This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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Tell me secrets in morse,

Be discreet like the eyelashes of trees
When they steal kisses from the planets
Rotating around the wiring of your bones,
Be silent like the muted cacophonies of
Five a.m. sunsets dripping from daffodil
Irises and hammocks stitched out of pollen,
Be still like the hydrangeas that bloom from
Empty flowerpots and the spaces between
Your rib cage, the birds are singing,

Miracle, miracles

And tell me the music box is not
Your heart, it is rooted to my palms
Like Braille: a summer garden in you,
A wintertide sea in me.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.





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Lover-of-the-Sloths said...
today at 10:43 pm:
This poem makes absoutely no sense and complete sense at the same time. I think it's beautiful
 
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