the world is a sensei. she likes to whip me while teaching,
like rough sex,
she likes it hard. she teaches how even the cosmo denies the galaxy
from sprouting from a sturdy palm
that’s constantly burned, daily. it’s all the same.
a little girl once told me
the carps splashing in the pond at her daddy’s backyard,
drank too much water – she said,
she whimpered, holding the fish like shards of glass,
like silver, lifeless, harmless confetti.
then she too, breathed too much air & choking on her breath,
she let the confetti strangle her. yes, like soft sex: whispering in her ears, going slowly
till everything felt unreal.
so you see, the world’s not all green:
our brains release toxins that produce colours
& when we’re dying, it lets us see the world
exactly as it is.