Writing

you get a line & i'll get a pole

honey - honey! july thickens, slows to a stop outside, get

your rod and line, the ones that used to be your father's. get

your heart from the closet and your coat from the floor,

This is my last sentence: We all belong here.

This is her last sentence: We all are loved.

This is his last sentence: We are a community.

This is their last sentence: Good will conquer evil.

Woven from feelings of happiness and friendship, short-lived as those feelings may be.

Woven from a cat’s meow and a dog’s tail wag.

Woven from ideals of love and compassion.

Woven from goodness itself.

This trail

this trail was too hard

way too hard

pushed me

emotionally and physically

in a way that left me nauseous

unable to breathe

shaky

I saw a photo of myself from freshman year

I didn’t love how I looked, cringed at it—a knee-jerk reaction to my ugly, green shoelaces—but not necessarily just because of my physical appearance

When you are old

Your skin will become like paper,

And your bones will be like the wooden ribs

Of a lantern

So that the world will see the light in your chest.

But I don't need to wait