Writing

There’s a spider in the shower,

It showed up there today,

It’s in the corner

Where wallpaper meets wallpaper meets wallpaper

Driving down dirt roads

Ten miles per hour over the speed limit

Oops

Slowing down

Tapping my foot to my new depression playlist 

Tears

I have given a lot of my faith away with purple ribbons

Our fingers brush when my hope is taken from me, and I expect no more than a jolt in my stomach, slight discomfort at having been accidentally touched

I didn't capitalize the word i

six years ago

in July 

in the photo book I made

to commemorate those months

I find myself both fearful and mad

At the outcome that happened on November 5.

I find myself wanting to curl into a ball and hide from it all for four years.

But I can’t.

When the echoes of voices have softened their sound,
And the campaign signs come down from the ground,
We’re left in the quiet, in the soft light of dawn,
To mend what is fractured, to carry on.