the poem i swallowed at your doorstep
I swallowed a poem
while I lingered
at your doorstep
for the last time.
I wanted to say
make a home of me;
throw my pebble heart
into the river-sky of your heart.
I wanted to say
walk all over me;
trample on my body made of moss;
carry my dirt under your soles.
I wanted to say
hack my skull open;
slip my howling theories
into the lulls of your speech.
I wanted to say
if I were the cut,
if I were waves,
if I were your bed,
please make me.
Heather Ann Pulido is an indigenous bisexual author from Baguio City, Philippines. A freelance journalist and content writer, she is a returning artist. Her poetry is in Yuzu Press and Sage Cigarettes. She has a BOTN-nominated poem published by JAKE. When she's supposed to be writing, she's on Twitter (@heather_tries).
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