Words: Hannah Parkinson (she/her)
Flowers opening out of season
will always be interesting to me.
I am learning to take pleasure in
(to find joy in) the little things.
Cynicism is soo last year.
I want wonder.
I want passion.
Embrace Whimsy –
on the first page of my bright red journal,
to match my bright RED nails –
is red my favourite colour anymore?
(Note to self, pick new favourite colour –
red is soo last year.)
Periwinkle blue, maybe.
Or Tiffany blue, for Audrey Hepburn.
My new journal is blue,
but my thoughts are still red
when I write them down?
I think they are blue when I feel them?
(Jesus Christ I’m so blue All the time)
The sky was blue and it was warm
and things didn’t feel so terrible,
one day at the end of February, though.
Now they’re saying it is going to snow,
in March –
up north down back home
(but not this north, though).
Nothing can touch me this far north.
In the 9 th kingdom.
Slot machine kindness
and false grins in the 5 th , but the
6 th is mine, wherever I am,
my left arm, next to my heart.
Am I a half-formed thing, too?
I don’t think I much want
Maybe I want far,
far too much
to be fully formed,
an entity,
a being,
(a god).
A quasi-Venus.
