I.

it’s much too bright tonight with the snow

lighting up the walls & I wonder if you too

forget how warm winter can be. honey, life

is not hard, just rough around the edges.

enough friction & fire & you can hold it

in your hands, meld all the bad things

at the wake when your knees dig into

the floor. jade rings unbought, money

slipping away in affirmation of wanting.

which is at least human, at least tangible.

    II.

requests for something more lovable into

shattering glass, echoing rooms, so

you remember that there is more than one

empty thing in the world & that you

are only one unfilled space embroidered

onto one white background, one cold front

isolated to your room. the sun cuts through

the harsher winds, the sun makes you take off

a layer of leather much too alike to the way spring

strips through your tears, your grieving.

    III.

you are 7 years old, anxiety much more poignant,

intrusive thoughts much less managed, & when your

mom stops reading you to sleep & trusts your rising

chest, your brother is dying in a house fire.

not even his hand-me-downs made it out, so when you

are 16 & the fire alarm goes off, he is the first thing

you run to in your panic. so when you are 16 & he is

at college & the kitchen light feels like it’ll break

down your door & he will not be home for

Lunar New Year, it means everything.