After Genie (sculpture by Sybille Peretti)

Look at you, whirlwind girl
In the eye of a tornado
You are restless behind transparent glass
Debris encasing you, mangling any words that grapple to find the end of the squall,
Hold on tightly for you are a genie,
Finding your own way out.
No need for rescue
If you could only find the time.

Hollow wants

In the dark, I trace stars on my ceiling,

Make believe constellations that connect
Me to anywhere,
I follow them with my finger,
Scribbling names of countries
I've never seen, over and over again
I sigh, as a familiar ache
Settles like cinder blocks
in my hollow chest. 

My mind is a dinner plate

My mind is a dinner plate, filled with foods that I cannot eat
It is shattered, as if to say I threw it
I threw it to say you cannot control me,
so in essence,
it controls me,
convinces me with its porclain facade
 to reject,
Bury the idea that I could ever be okay
With being something more than a void
A place where others go to bury themselves
My mind was a graveyard of the sorrows gifted to me for burial,
I let them take up space, fill my empty with their collections of the most beautiful plates, ones that are empty and unscathed.