Ash Miranda: 3 Poems

what happened to him?

// Conversations​

I am a bird in a box. I can cough. Inside a bird is a cage. Ribs pressed together. Inside this coffin, we kissed. I wish to still kiss. Inside a cup, we placed a boat. It floats on and on with wings and gold. you took a different coffin home. I go into a cage. Here, are we birds of gold or blood? When will we sleep in the same box? A red box is not a cage, it is a moment, pressed inside us, in our ribs. Birds burst through and carry us through black. In a second, we will have to sing. If we sing well, a boat brings us away from cages and blood and black wings that are clipped. I wish this to be true

Conversations

This is a very convoluted way of saying I love you. A convoluted retelling of a story. All stories are retelling us to love.

Mourning Styles

Ash Miranda is a non-binary Latinx poet from Chicago. They received an MFA in Writing from SAIC and currently focuses their poetry on exploring their gender identity, trauma, grief, and activism. Ash uses They/Them/Theirs pronouns and comes from a Guatemalan-Mexican background.