Heart-Shaped Box
This is a photograph of your hands scooping water out of the river named lonely running through
the center of your grandmother’s chest. This is a photograph of your knees bent at the altar
painted with the years between you & the last time you saw your father cry. This is a photograph
of the look in your eyes when your blood stopped for that fraction of a second just before impact.
This is a photograph of your skin crawling on its belly to the ocean of your blue-blue tension.
This is a photograph of your mouth full of sand. This is a photograph of your mother forever
trying to floss out the spaces between your teeth. This is a photograph of the shadow shaped by
the tower of secrets sleeping behind your ear. This is a photograph of you leaning in to kiss the
collage of lips that the secrets came from. This is a photograph of your neck missing the feeling
of a breath no longer there. This is a photograph of the back of your head holding all that you that
you’ve ever known up until now.