Reid@YWP

& walk around soho with maxi skirts & matcha & annotate the bell jar in velvet blue ink on curling pages with garamond font & wear my hair long down my back & dark sunglasses pulled up on my head & bangle bracelets that sli

I worry a lot about what I am. I worry about the shape I am, the space I take up, and the way I do it.

my family has claimed thanksgiving.

it's our holiday, you know,

the one we do the best,

and so it must be ours. we're joking,

mostly, but it's true we do thanksgiving very well

probably overdo but it's better

in my heart, hope is a quiet thing
a pulse beneath rubble
soft as breath against marble dust.

it doesn't sing
it lingers.
it waits in the cracks where sunlight pools
on mornings the mist forgets to rise.

it was barely audible 

yet soft and sure 

in the heat of the moment. 

what? 

I ask 

even though I know what you said. 

I know the weight 

Today, I watched boys climbing a log stuck vertically in the sand

And girls kicking at leaves just for the fun of it,

And oh, when did our youth slip through the backdoor unnoticed,