each freckle is a planet
in this contained universe, a body
that orbits the sun—
drenched experience I’m in. I say I worship
God, but my skin tells otherwise, sacrificing

myself to the heat, the dark
brown dreams I have had every summer
for the rest of my life. gravity
pulls me toward the glow
of beauty. I loathed. I loved. I lived

for the delusion that my see-
through wrapping became seaside
opaque. and maybe even
salt-blonde waves would work unkempt
wonders, replacing my redhead. axis

tilted winter-wise
and the sun-dream faded until
I was white as the full
moon showcasing the rabbit
who forgot to change color, easy prey.

 


In some Mexican mythology, there is a rabbit on the face of the moon, not a man.

Image credit:Good Free Photos

Current Hoosier. Master's student/Associate Instructor at IUB: Latin American and Caribbean Studies.  When I’m not riding race horses, I am studying Neruda and Marquez, Hemingway and Steinbeck. My heart for reading and writing poetry lies in the intersection of language, culture, and politics.