Thursday, September 25, 2025

Heather Romero-Kornblum

Liquid Lightning


I survived 

a 17-hour 

epinephrine

drip


My body 

on

liquid lightning

pulsed 

alive




Easy


I was like honey 

to you – you went down 

easy and smooth 


How quickly I forget

the other part of it




My Tears Don’t Make Sense


I fused glass at an art studio


gluing jagged multicolored shards

tack and shallow slump


bubbling up and out in the kiln


not suitable to eat off of

or drink out of


I am a baby racoon


rejected by my tribe


I wanted to inscribe on your heart:


        Heather was here


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