blue spine

he was the first boy that made you brave enough
to openly want something. you bloomed like
chrysanthemums under his hands. spun yourself
gold. hung the sun from your tonsils. every time
you opened your mouth, you wrote him into light.
told him, i don’t see the dark, i only hear the birds.
made him the muse, turned yourself martyr. loved
him until your face turned blue. until your spine 
became wishbone. your body turned meadow.
grew in the midst of a frost. shook off the ice
crystals and opened your mouth. showed
him the sun. reminded him of the songbirds.
promised to keep being the light if he
promised not to swallow the dark.
—  CHRYSANTHEMUMS, angelea l.

First of Series on the TBR (please ignore the last PJO book)