poetry: sweet


First published in Sooth Swarm Journal


suppose i dress for another night,

hair unfurled, skimming my bruised

shadow. i wait out the rain & raise the

damp month to dry, the days fluttering

with all the grace of moths battered against

a window. it’s oct 14th & i have one chance to leave.

creamy pinpricks of light fist my hair

& it’s shorn in one go, forming an exit wound,

sweet & unfamiliar like trisha and her broken

iphone buzzing in the movie theater.

the wind is bloated. pebbled curtains sop up

spilled milk. i knock on wood & worry about

the sunken portrait of a pear propped up in the

kitchen sink, which is overflowing with light &

twenty poems on post-its.

the day is wrung from my soapy palms,

trisha’s smile sagging like an afterthought.



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