Maggie Sun (17)
kumari
the young goddess has a hastily painted face.
her eyes extend blackly, messily. tree branches
on the face of a sapling. here, blood is forbidden—
the rusty halls of tradition don’t age. they crumble.
yet somehow the living goddess drips with injury.
maybe they paint her face with the adulthood
that doesn’t know how to drip onto her legs yet,
clothe her in the cardinal sin she antithesizes.
maybe she’s only a goddess because they want
to kill everything as dirty as themselves.
Maggie Sun currently lives in Southern California. She loves collecting phone cases and hair clips. Find her on Instagram @maggiesuun!
kumari
the young goddess has a hastily painted face.
her eyes extend blackly, messily. tree branches
on the face of a sapling. here, blood is forbidden—
the rusty halls of tradition don’t age. they crumble.
yet somehow the living goddess drips with injury.
maybe they paint her face with the adulthood
that doesn’t know how to drip onto her legs yet,
clothe her in the cardinal sin she antithesizes.
maybe she’s only a goddess because they want
to kill everything as dirty as themselves.
Maggie Sun currently lives in Southern California. She loves collecting phone cases and hair clips. Find her on Instagram @maggiesuun!