This is a reminder to whisper sweet nothings
that mean something;
to hold arms crossed like hot buns, yellow butter creeks soaking
the currants I pick out
one by one.
This is a reminder to be kind
to this tender self.
"& I am a tourniquet squeezing
the bleached cloth in my hands
until the water runs red because I am pinching
at strings"
collecting humans
like humans collect bullets in the essential organs
of their kin