April showers us in blue. I think about all the flowers prisoned
in this house : painted on our plates, drying on the walls, potted & wilting.
Does it ever cross your mind? How we deprive roses of light
so we can take time-lapses of their dying? How your foot tramples
over a thousand dandelion seeds each day & leaves no apologies
for the soil? Imagine bleeding in a color you don’t yet know. Imagine
being cut open for others to study the patterns of your marrow. All of us
have only ever existed in zero-sum: we fear symbiosis. We are scared
of codependence & the tenderness it entails. Keep pushing for soft things:
learn how to capture beauty with your eyes. To believe in forgiveness &
how it blooms unabatedly in spring. Did you know that every sunflower
is actually made of thousands of smaller flowers? It’s time you learned
how to live with something without destroying it.
Sal Kang is a multifaceted artist who currently works at an art museum and makes tender lo-fi tracks in her bedroom when she has a moment to spare. She also designs spreads for a magazine and runs weekly poetry workshops for young adults in her local community. Sal’s work has been published in Gravitas, Canvas Literary Journal, The Rappahannock Review, The Bitchin' Kitsch, and InkBeat Literary Journal, and her first collection of poetry is scheduled for release in fall 2019.