PAST LIVES

If we’re talking about past lives, I think I was an

astronaut. You were the first constellation I ever

named. After light, life, hope, death. You were the

black hole that wouldn’t stop ringing. A keening in

the darkness. Fast forward a couple hundred years,

you live in the arctic & I’m the one wildflower that

dared to grow through the ice. I’m the girl in a medical

bubble, you’re the aspiring paramedic that’s trying to

accept that he can’t save them all. I’m a fortune teller,

you’re the tarot card that pops up so often I wind up

throwing out the whole deck. Aphrodite & I aren’t on

speaking terms anymore. Whatever is out there decided

your soul was too good & condensed you into the rose

quartz I carry around in my pocket. You’re an avalanche,

I’m a monsoon – we both send everyone we love running

for cover, clutching at door frames. Present day, I’m just

a seashell hoarder that’s wondering which ocean is

speaking to me. You’re alone in front of the Pacific Ocean,

talking right at me.