Kristin Lueke is a Chicana poet and author of the chapbooks here i show you a human heart (2025) (in)different math (Dancing Girl Press, 2013). Her work appears in Sixth Finch, LETTERS, Wildness, HAD, Maudlin House, Frozen Sea, and elsewhere.
weeping
and/or
willing
let the wound
tell me how—
let my legs
keep going
let closer
let conflict
take shelter
here
i reach you
take a moment
here
i listen
take
sugar in your coffee
some gods
move
with grace
take comfort
take longing
let flowers
originally titled fuck a million let one billion flowers bloom, this poem lived with me since september 2023, when i saw on a walk through my friend's neighborhood in portland a possum decomposing on the sidewalk. a man and his grandson sat on their porch, watching me look closer from the other side of the street. the man called out to me "that's been there for a few months now, you mind if he comes looks at with you? it scared the jesus out of me when i first saw it." so there i was with a sweet, quiet child crouched low, looking at how life works, and i asked him if he knew what kind of flowers they were, growing through the cracks in the sidewalk and what was once a possum. i wrote two poems about those few minutes. this one is the second. i needed to live with it a while to figure it out, open up the space in it, let it soften into something more or less complete.