i’m marching away
towards the heart’s twigs and margins.
crossing corners where homeboys
giggle with beautiful hands.
where the vigil is thick. sweet.
where love flares up and sets fire to smoke.
i’m searching for requiems that have
veils of honey and
i’ll never see you again.
o memory of pancreatic light.
of distinct blossoms.
so far gone.
— Michèle Katrina Thorsen