Jasmine Tsai Poet Other

--procession--

we dressed them in thinned clouds—
               no lace,
                      no hymns,
                                                      just wind.

innocence was light enough
   to carry
        in a breath.
   "careful, don't wake her."

        naïve had shoes tied wrong,
               "she liked it that way."
                the earth didn't mind.

hope—
          never still,
                 tossed petals as she went,
                        still believing it was a game.
"her new home will always rain daisies."

no pallbearers.
just memory
                   folding paper cranes
                        in the corners of our silence.

by the road side,
stood
Hate.
     in tailored quiet,
         lipstick a stinging red.
she dropped
      one
           white
                carnation
on the soil—
                not mourning,
                just marking her work.

she didn't stay.
just smiled,
      as if to say:
             "what did you expect?"
and walked off.
thin heels clicking—
               her goodbyes.
                            don't wait.
                                for answers.

we buried the tiny coffins
                   beneath a tree
                       that once grew letters to santa.
we said nothing.
   the wind said enough.

they said it wasn't murder.
only
                           "what happens
                                             when you learn."

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