Bread Blue Planet
I’m a bread blue planet.
Among a crazy shuffle of blue.
I’m like
too intense
for the malt of the run.
For the sake of the gun.
I was a child that ate leaves.
Now I’m an adult among a wintry hail.
A wintry wait heaven.
When you touched me
you thought you had a firm grip
on a girl body.
When you touched me
I felt like sky.
Like cry.
When you touched me.
I didn’t even whimper a bit.
Didn’t even feel it really.
Every time I’m touched I feel like heaven.
I feel like grip.
Everything moves within me and I become responsive.
And I become a bold sparkle.
Yes I become responsive.
I wish I had a way to talk
But please know I’ll just respond.
There is a baby in me.
That’s not my daughter:
But it’s my spoke.
That rinses at the world.
That craves the world.
That bleeds the world.
Boasts the world.
It’s an animal
and it’s a blunt
hand.
I wish I knew how
to greet you
in a way that can
make you understand.
Understand.
My body split in two.
Reclined in a malware.
Cold rhythm. Scope.
I’d love to be blue. 🔵
The whole color. The whole
world. God!
I’d love to be the whole world.
Watery + blue + baltic.
But you touch me.
I’m just a touch.
Stella Gleitsman (she/he/they) is a poet from the Lower East Side of New York. They make zines and artist books.