Too Much, Too Late BY: rachel castro

You’ll know her by the hum in your chest

When you look up and take notice

Of that visible covenant after the rain.

And you’ll know her by the sound your feet make

As they fumble through that creek bed

No one remembers the name of.

You should have kept those hands at your side

Instead of in her blood supply.

APPLE CHILD by Rachel Castro

I make noises of a woman who has been nursing hurt from a long time ago, like an apple that was bruised long before it was ripe. These bruises run deep, close to my core.

I fear for the one who chooses me, venturing to peel back my hopeful skin.