Everyone assumes we know how to love. Where did

you first learn (or did you ever)? In this blooming



a message: the bird which heals itself

is bandaged by an unseen hand. I asked



the earth to distill into one bone, into

the nadir of a mountain. I found buried there



my fear transformed into a jackrabbit

bounding away from me, an upside-down



heart moving across the Ouija board of this valley

reminding me that time is a floating island,



a menagerie of stars and crystals growing from children’s

play lab kits and nautilus lisps—I asked: child



or no child—and the apple gave me the gift

of four seeds, perfect wisdom if not



wooden—what is the difference between

earth and terra? The landscape unfolds, unspools



like a soft plume. The chrysalis is a crossroads.

A fat grub born every minute. The air fat



with feathers in this ceremony of eternal candles.

La luna changes her mind often—child or no child



—blooming a new face, unraveled ligature

unbound and unbothered.

Copyright © 2022 Michelle Peñaloza. Originally published in Frontier Poetry, 2022. Reprinted with permission of the poet.