someone has died
it rumbles through the train tracks
on gravel's broken side
and
the caterpillars know it
they spin into white coffins
above the march of ants
with their hoisted rice shrouds

soon they will find the brass of your tongue
the bells of lungs
where beethoven lodged his 51st
and find snippets of sonatas trapped
in intestines and pancreas
in the treble cleft of her chest

and maybe
between the toes
in the frail cap of her knees
the crust and leaves will bleed
her songs

for even swallowed
by Earth’s green lips
she rests
a larynx
to sing God
to sleep

Lida (BC'23 she/her/hers) is a Psychology and Education major from Houston, Texas. Writing poetry is a way for her to connect with her Iranian culture and explore new creative boundaries in both Persian and English.