I have sown these sorrows in a fertile sky every sunrise is now a blooming of birds

I have taught myself to be too big for Grief’s small mouth I have made myself entirely enormous with the bloat of memory let it choke upon my saturated tissues long marinated in these loves and longings #poetry

Not a lot of people know this, but some Irish-Canadians are akin to leprechauns. If you catch one of us we have to grant you three apologies.

oh, my darling I would make my fingers into Icarus-feathers just to touch the sun of your skin #poetry

Sometimes I write feminist poetry when I’m meant to be sleeping. Tonight is such a night. ❤️

oh, my darling your words are receptacles for light and other gleanings and your shadows have befriended mine in the loveliest of ways #poetry

oh, my darling your hands are far too small to hold the all of this heavy sky #poetry

Scammer: “Hey! How are you?” Me: “Terrible. They finally caught me. I would have got away with it too—if not for those meddling kids!” Scammer: “Oh. Okay. So where are you from?” Me: “The quiet place between sleep and waking. The gap between here and could-have been.” Scammer: *blocks me*

oh, my darling you are a craving unspoken I have buried you in so many soils you are the umber underline to the earth’s soft gold #poetry

time doesn't heal time is glue holding our broken pieces t o g e t h e r we’re all mosaics gloriously fractured yet whole #poetry

oh, my darling your touch unspools all the world has wound within me I am a puddle of loose unhappening upon your haven-floor #poetry

Being home is my very favourite. And I used to feel mildly abashed for preferring it to everywhere else in the world. But I love it. I love being here. This home is me. It is mine. I made it. What a glorious success I am, to have made a haven for myself that I forever long to inhabit. Go me.

oh, my darling how I love to huddle with you under the umbrella of every sky #poetry

this smile is a fracture a fraught fault line burgeoning beneath a suffocating sea #poetry

oh, my darling the morning found me softly today kissed my forehead with the reminder that this world has you in it #poetry

sweet serendipity sings its soft s y m p h o n i e s seeks the spaces between my rib bones weaves itself in sighing tones through sinews and sorrows till these many grievings these many thievings ache just the littlest bit more gently #poetry

have you ever made out with Maybe on the shores of a might-be sea? have you ever plunged with Probably from the heights of a doubtful tree? have you ever danced with Definitely to the tune of a wind-sung plea? have you ever been the other? or have you only been the me? #poetry

oh, my darling you are a gentle smudge in a world of crisp c u t t i n g edges fall with me into the b l u r #poetry

the earth is loud today it’s voice is a thunder of bees but its breath is smoke upon the water #poetry

The Love Shack is only 15 miles away. (bring your jukebox money)

oh, my darling I fed your name to a hungry moon and she is now a brimming of every shape of light your name has taught my eyes to see #poetry

Sometimes when I grate cheese onto a hot foodstuff it melts into invisibility in some places and I think, “Oh no, I must not have cheesed that part yet!” And then I cheese it again and double cheese happens. Life is super not great* sometimes, but double cheese is a thing that can happen. *grate

race me, darling chase these waves across tide plains sparkling where the sun finds its puddles in meteor showers of fractured bright delight me, darling in this transient realm where the sky bends low to kiss the fevered brow of earth’s horizon and frecklings of birds make their answer #poetry

My great-grandmother fervently believed that my family have what she called “high caloric saliva” and that this is why we’re all substantially sized people and I just felt like that was something you should know about me.

she wears every word they ever gave her some carry light some f r a c t u r e i t some are shadows pressing their weight against the soft soil of her lungs #poetry

Just watching the final 8-ish minutes of The Other Bennet Sister over and over until it heals me …

oh, my darling build me a chapel out of these borrowed bones speak your hymns into the hollows of my hips tilt the sky till its every cloud falls upon my light-starved lips #poetry

this smoke is a carrying of remnants these ashes whisper of worlds that used to be homes #poetry

oh, my darling I have fallen in love—again, again with the becoming of you #poetry

Somewhere in the world there is a mouse who lives in a bookshop. And they are just as lovely, just as clever, just as kind as we instinctively know a bookshop can teach a mouse to be. #TinyStories