Too soon she said / "I am the black grifa" / like the violent hypogriffs running chains with the wind.

here comes that one to succeed / the other one, the dethroner / they don't notice, they have no clue

It's cold even though it’s mid-May / we travel the city / wide skyscrapers touch each other in the sky / grey the sky / and us wrapped in scarves and asthma

Aboriginal Girl. Stock photo, image.

suffering from breathing. Each morning,/ wake to see what swallowed / by accident in dream state – crooners, / crooked veins, angry-faced sun, fermented / watermelon rind, non-pristine tennis ball / spit out by dog.

Inside me, I write / to trace our names sweet / across sky who will follow, / if not you bright star?

My father ate fire from bottles that burst / when emptied—sharp embers I learned / to tread across without being burned.