BY AARTI MONTEIRO

there is a girl moving in a garden of vulnerable flowers.

her mind creates images of beautiful people dancing
around her. spinning inside moments of freedom.
forever only exists in the mind of the vulnerable for
now she doesn’t remember.
her body dropped into wind and couldn’t escape
thoughts and air.
her hair — no longer individual strands — stitched itself to
the breezes around her body, fingers tattooed by ink of
broken bones, glue that can’t hold anything together.
she begins to drift into forgotten leaves

BY AARTI MONTEIRO

Stars remind me of a small place
made of rice, in a town where you
have to step hard on the ground so
the snakes do not come near. We
met in a world that didn’t belong to
either of us.

Flowers are arising after cold
hearts stepped over their seeds and
I watched them grow ready for
pure wet air. We were both born
people. You and I could write to
each other and feel alive. The wind
flows in my world this time of year
when toes begin to breathe. The
moon melted in your eyes.

I give you my insides so you can
keep them in a cupboard for me not
to see. I want you to help fill me
with something different. I put my
spirit into a letter I’ll never get
back. I am not here to forget.

In the day, stars fall to the ground
and swim. They like to dance and
be free with the snakes. In the dark
the stars sleep in the sky beyond
our dreams.

I know what it is to be lonely with
people you love more than you
love yourself. Her eyes are like
windowpanes, rain running down
the glass.