Light palo santo until it smokes, hold
the wood in your hand and write your
own name in the air above your bed.
Play Stevie Nicks.
Gather bumblebee jasper (for palm-
sureness), rose quartz (for the heart that’s
not muscle), calcite (for clarity like
skylights). Burn sweetgrass.
Stand in front of the mirror and find
your own eyes like you’re looking for
love coming off a train. Hold
your gaze—
If you cry, allow it. No need to collect the
saltwater, but sip it from your cheeks (a
tonic for sleeplessness and headaches).
Say aloud to your own face:
I’m molten silver over coals, I am
the whole gulf stream current, I am
every raspberry in June, I am
my own shrine.
Anne Vetter uses photography, video, and poetry to tell stories about queerness, intimacy, and Jewishness. She graduated from Colby College with a BA in Anthropology and Art. She is a published poet, with work forthcoming in The Lascaux Review and elsewhere. Anne currently lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. More art and writing can be found at acvetter.com.