I ate a plate of poppy seeds for breakfast
A picture of flowering pitcher plants
Kurdish folk songs wrapped in pink tin foil

cleaning underneath my nails
now all of you is gone
easily we let go
easier when unknown

like a knife made of ice
dagger shatters when she breathes
frozen air crystal lungs
ache accumulates in me

Turn around before you turn to dust. I am the nearest one to you.
Or if the desire grows to splinter truth,
I will sit, sifting fingers through the infinite grains of you,
for my attention will stay as you consume.