I ate
the gold leaf
it tasted of cinnamon and time
it crumbled on my tongue like tiny hairs on moth wings
leaving glitter dust on my lashes and cheeks

I glanced up for reprimand and found
that nothing is forbidden
we eat to our hearts' content
and drink water that fills our throats with song

Even I
ate the purple heart
that grows at the middle of my own tree
Imagine that,
a living, breathing tree
separate from myself
but still, actually me
fibrous and juicy and bursting between my teeth

and then,
laughing, I ran
where everything heals itself
where dead relatives are alive and children again
and where no one
remembers the taste of tears