day 341

For my 20th birthday

I
Fists of iron
A coat hanger
Better hand eye coordination

II
You're moving across the universe
with shoes made of braille
and a loose tongue that doesn't know how to speak to new strangers

III
Aphrodite pricked her foot on a thorn
while trying to find Adonis

IV
Seventeen was a year of being saved
Finding myself in your mouth of an ocean
and the callous ignorance we named ritual

A habit
of being lost

Of losing myself

V
Maybe I'm still lost
Two years later
A better sense of direction
Broken magnetic compass
The will to fight