Golden Shovels after Lorde

Wait for It

Here is how I let you go: I’m

waking up my numb fingers, waiting

on nothing anymore. Everything ends for

me this time. I’ll name my darlings, my hurt. No more it.

I’ll swallow brass cogs, punch clocks, beat that

awful ticking, only eating lettuce in green

dresses now. Hear me overthrow light.

Rosier, more elephant, I

promise, what I want

to say—I’ll say it.

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Secret Power

The first thing I did was call myself I

again, almost as if all the love

we’d had was my water bucket. It

poured over me, led me here

to a place I’d forgotten since

us: this cavern, this ribcage, what I’ve

been so afraid to scavenge. I’ve stopped

wanting to hide my gloves now. My dirt is needing

tending. My plants are thirsty, are dying, are you.