yellow

when I was a teen

you would sit with me

buried in bedsheets, hugging me,

saying have strength and I thought

how can someone so soft

be the strength                you need

But I try every day and

now I’m all yolk wrapped in shell

& I don’t tell you but I’m still scratching

that itch just in different ways. Older ways

where I make my own birthday cake

stare off into space

and squeeze whole eggs in my hands

because crushing the shell

feels good to my fingers & I like how

the yolks drip bright        neon yellow

all over the counter    have you ever

thought that maybe

strength                was not my color