Sara Santistevan

Cure for an eldest daughter’s Burnout

light a candle and watch the flame undulate

swaying lemniscate like a hummingbird’s wings

ponder if you are the wick or fire

ponder planned forest fires

ponder cleansed palates

when you want to welcome lightness within, 

buy a journal protected by a painted hummingbird 

and fill the pages with poems about the love you want

the love I want naps warm in words

is a campfire licking cheek-side

spins bright worlds into blank skyscapes

writing with Colibrí means

when you blow out a candle

the light never dies 

rather, it rests, lingering as smoke 

in our world until it can jump 

into the next candle we light

gather up your love

blossoms of ink diving into 

the warm kettle of your lungs 

breathe

and 

exhale

then watch the flame melt into

iridian tendrils taking flight

wispy and skittish

to end the ritual, close your eyes, and whisper,

“Gracias, Colibrí, for gifting us Mother Fire.”