a rusty thumb tack goes here

sun is fly paper
moon is my reflection
in deep water

mirrors are portals
to other worlds

my sadness strings
maps to other dimensions

red yarn tied and tied again
this knot is my blood
this knot is my protection

memory is a wound
i pick at 

a rusty thumb tack
goes here

at seven i spit grapes seeds
on cement 
and the patterns told
me where to go next

there is nowhere to go
now
so i sit in the 
circle of the moon