proposals for good fortune

I

another way of holding
this covering,
curled, familiar,
already loosening.

do not return—
exhale.

do not grip past the blood—
the thread loosens,
draws itself out
through the wrist.

do not keep it—
it turns inward.
the hand refuses.

do not take a photo—
it sinks
behind the ribs.

II

when I touched the stalk
it gave at once,
as if waiting.

this one will not keep:
purple bruising to black,
then thinning blue,
then a colour
the eye refuses.

by the time I look again,
it has turned
toward the ground.

fine roots
press out
from the split.

III

IV

I heard it—
slow dripping below.

I crossed the fields
because you said
I would find it there.

clouds in the river,
the river inside them.
daisies opening,
closing, opening
in my pocket,
coins warming
against my leg.

in the shade,
I found it:
the opening.

I lay flat
to see inside—
dark.
not empty.
something shifting
against itself.

then straightening—
I threw one in.
it struck the walls,
kept striking—
the sound continuing

after.

V

VI

you asked me
to be gentle.

watch:
how she thins,
how she swells.
not waning—
already returning.

tomorrow—
light
entering the same place again.

***

Written in response to Hugo Brazão‘s exhibition Happily Ever After at Balcony, Lisbon, February–March 2025, and presented alongside the installation and sculptural works on view.