Mica

Everything I respect begins
with porcupine and skunk.
I must defend myself.

Everything I value begins
with a brook:
buoyancy and rhythm.

Every piece of sky I breathe
has been touched by wings
of wasps and phoebes.

I’m learning how to breathe.
I hold my breath like sunshine
locked in ice.

Everything I think begins
with granite and mica.
I peel silver layers.

Published in my chapbook Bicycle Lotus