Did You Hear Something?
I dreamt it wasn’t a dream
i shouted your name
but you were dancing
she swung in your arms
her sugar lips glistened
where yours had been
screw you
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Rain, the forest, and random thoughts:
Seasons drift past. Winter was hell, then spring struggled to
break it. Daylight lingered. Warmth at last.
I listened last night to early summer’s faint rain and
watched the dogs sleep. It’s true, that she swung in your arms once, and I
turned around and poured myself a shot, right there on the edge of jumping into
a dark hole where I would forget your name.
Wednesday night’s rain tapped away and again I remember
waking, wondering what was real. Coral quince blooms and honeysuckle soaking
the air — I believe in these ephemeral things. Like vernal pools and I love
yous and puddles caught by the sun, they linger and are lost.
From the crooked horizon rose a hawk, solitary and free.
That’s the way things should be. Wild things were rearranging themselves after
the timid rainfall. Wood frogs bustled beneath damp leaves.
I thought about an old forgotten cottage boarded up on the
forest’s fringes, aching for sunlight. It’s coming. Almost. Soon I’ll tear
those boards free. And soon I’ll stop being a bare-minimum girl. I'll throw away
these overused clothes in which I stew, growing so sick of myself. For a large
part of the last decade I’ve sat at night gorging on books and red wine,
getting nowhere but hungover. There is so much more than that.
