Brand New Noise


A sound she hadn’t realized
she’d lost or had never heard
to begin with—her footsteps

on cool white tile, walking down
the hallway, a device coiled
in the auricle of her ear.

                                       Listen.

What can bloom and still
blooms and is blooming. We wake
up and wake up and wake up.



Creation Story

Their favorite genre, God thought, was the portrait, for gender was dead.