Kyle Costa

What small hands pointing at the placard, I note,
while noting towered labiates of smoke clouds: abrupt.
Sun run on & on & on,
finally finding finality in a pair of small hands, cupped.
...

Making things up to hold me over was
so much easier growing up. What got heavier,
the burdens or the years?
I wasn't built for this style of melee;
...

Polished, fickle, filament.
We've redone every aspect of this tiny headspace—
nothing's left but the ensuite. Maybe that's what pulls
the scripture out of stomach. Poster child: drowned
...

Offer me up or auction me off.

Step aside and watch as all of these silly habits
...

Filling gaps; looking deeply
at nuance to see about
changing how things are remembered
and experienced.
...

A mystery, not unlike how you
bought and sold me for profit
behind my back
while posing as a miracle reflected off
...

She reaches toward her internal mechanisms and nods,
little arenas of her voice summoned to speak.
She's shy, I know it.
He becomes alive with her words. I know it better
...

Mutter, mutter, mutter these words to yourself:

a meditation in deeply holding light between
...