we grew a little slower sometimes
we needed to protect ourselves
we self-seeded on the cliff face
we splashed out real nice
we crawled into a corner
we couldn’t have asked for this
we called it a parody of errors
we were four different heights
we thought it was Lenin’s ghost
we trekked a desert or two
we hovered near the autoclave
we crowned ourselves, made spheres
of our luck.
we stood & watched: the silk dried eventually.


Elena Gomez reads 'Enter the Yellow Tower'