POETRY

Maryam

When things fall into place
and I feel the purple ink of hope stain the paper of my heart
I think of topology

How a sphere is also a point
if we define the mappings
as I forever map you
and your changing colors

I kirned topology as a totem of where I might venture next
once the purpose of living was no longer trying to survive

naked in this moonlight
a smile softly spreads like butter on my skin
scraping itself on the bark
of my broken projections
as I bleed your light