Delulu Solulu
A girl traces her name on a lotus
wet petal,
black ink finger,
the blossom closes on blank water.
She pockets the air.
Pink sticky notes colonise the mirror:
Poet, Loved by All,
toothpaste specks between her futures.
Each morning she nods at the manifesto fogging under her breath.
The vision board:
a ransom note to the universe.
Magazine scissors,
glossy mouths smiling,
glue stick still uncapped.
She walks through doorways as if hinges are already singing,
her shoulder angled for the width of yes.
At night,
the lotus opens anyway moonlit,
empty,
holding nothing but its own white throat.
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