like confetti or fireworks sparkling outside

the house then thrown away.

what should i do with so many gifts?

a mouth to smile with, hands that dance

in fluttering paper scraps.

how dare i be less than you make of me?

i’m sorry. i’m no magician, but i can paint

a web from the lines of my face

or trap the weight of breath on a string

i promise, i’ll find a mask that fits you too.

i promise, i’m hungrier than i seem.

hungry enough to chew through a sea

of wrapping paper and carnival dust.

the gloss of stage lights filters sweat to glitter.

i’m sorry to wear my skin offstage.

this circus is full of strange animals who ate

their cages, iron melting inside.

what should i do with so many gifts?

a mouth to scream with, eyes drawn against

every sharp, sparkling edge.