You do not have to
separate yourself from the sky
You do not need to play chess
with invisible stars
in stale dreams with debt collectors
whose knees are made of violin pleas
You do not need to polish the sun
Let gravity gnaw the pale skin of an onion
Let Saturn juggle its rings alone
You are not the architect
of an inferior coyote’s bad dream
Sit on the porch with the cool wind
Let your shadow flirt
with the curious dice
and spin with the ceiling fan
Kassandra Vilchis is a poet based in Minnesota. Her work thoughtfully examines themes of grief, womanhood, and generational trauma. Her writing will appear in the forthcoming Upon Learning anthology. Outside of her writing, she enjoys hiking, her dog, Thor and being dramatically lactose intolerant.