a portrait of dreams as firebird by Tatiana Clark
when i was born i must have
swallowed the stars in my mother's womb
and never gave them back. if you cleaved
open my ribs, you'd find burrows
of fire, memory excavated from sun: this
is the kingdom where firebirds
never sleep. where skies are full and
buzzing, clouds to float away on. morpheus
plants poppies in my belly
like seeds. you could pluck
me from this waking
nebula, all feather and flame
and heat, but another would grow
in its place, prodding dust and plenty.
Tatiana Clark is a writer and moon enthusiast. She's pursuing a B.A. in English/Creative Writing at the University of South Florida and has work published in Orange Blush Zine. You can find her on Instagram and Twitter @tatiianaclark.