April 13

i don’t pray to god
it’s not
that i don’t believe
in something, or
that i don’t fold words up
paper aeroplane them
to a mystery destination

i suppose
there are two absences
on this earth
Kendra and Heidi
who
fill an otherwhere
that is actually quite a big somewhere
on the inside of me
to whom
i hope
land my messages
for the unfolding

each
cousin and grandmother
on the opposite side of my constellation
both flew the same year

one
the day after my birthday

one
precisely five years to the day
i crashlanded into the side of the mountain
that has become home

so
it’s to them i pose my queries
when the paper slips under the fingernail
when the colour has been blotted from a new way of being

to Kendra
when the sublime becomes ridiculous
and a cackling laugh is required to split the air

to Heidi
the one who stamped out the path
whose blood recalled the hills near here

as easily
as hopefully
as if they were daisies at my table