Hid Too Well

 

Written by  Ellie Onka

 

A closet

my death of the bride

in the moon’s bed;

 

I take a drink

cut my hair

a body in the bed

outright as a toothbrush

I blind a summer rose

breaking it as it’s born

la de dah she says

la de die

the life in voice

that seduces me

it was buried in a dream

telling me “fuck you”

 

I wish I hid too well

in my bone garden, but I sleep-monger

and sleep in a shoebox

of loneliness.

 

Text ©  Ellie Onka

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