iconoclast

spiked raw on fresh flower cuttings cold hand tile floor, alone

in the shopping aisle your grip’s wearing too thin i think you need something to believe in—

my icon is a bottle shattered on curbside. ball of crystal ice. i


divine with eyes transfixed, mark the future with to-do lists, see

our faces in other lights, gaze through each blind find rays from different suns—


plan—yearn—project, i bring you tomorrow like a gift

an offering a quiet promise but you tread too loud and it’s hard to know


you’re trying to drown my power-symbol


Lina is a Toronto-based artist who is figuring out how to be soft and strong at the same time.