How to Make a Zillion Dollars

Learn cyanotype. It’s some sort of science, 

you know, since you learned it in physics and art.

When you leave the green out in the sun

and dunk it in the cool of water, it turns a blue

so rich, it makes you feel warmth. Back when I was

sixteen, another girl gave me flowers. I had loved

her so much, I saved each one and left them in the sun

to dry. She left me a book of poetry and a near goodbye

when I moved away. Lilies, I kept wondering about. 

When you dry lilies–and roses, I later learned–they

smell so rich, that you stop bothering to keep

them fresh from the start; you cut the bulbs off 

and leave them in the sun, and let them grow rich

in scent because they’re rich in something else, too. 

I come from a country that grew rich from salt

and gold. I don’t love gold the way I do coral

and furious ocean water. I don’t love wealth in

the way I love richness. The sun takes my 

breath away so frequently, that in times of lack

I open my mouth to hot breath and deep blues, 

like cold hands and the way ink stains. Priceless 

things like that cost so much that you feel weak

once they’re done and gone. Sometimes, I find

myself feeling that way when I open a letter to

find the glorious names I recognize and wonder

about the cacti and desert where love lives. My 

heart gives out frequently and I can’t help but 

hurt at distance and hands upheld and griefs 

unspoken. Thankfully, we speak of grief and

you tell me that life has to keep going, even

when it is fundamentally different. Life keeps

going, even when it loses richness. Even when

gratitude does not account for lack of hope.