by | Oct 10, 2023 | Issue Thirty-Five, Poetry

If you ask me why I left Michigan,
I would tell that you that it wasn’t because
Of the weather which left me with a bloated album of waiting
for the blackouts
to skip between the trees. It wasn’t because
the roofs unfurled and the doors retreated to hollows
somewhere in the sky. It wasn’t because
of the shelves of water, inching like new constellations
across an endless night. It was the full circle
of fear, the kind that stays in my mouth
like neon jawbreakers, refusing to surrender, tailor-made
to dislocate words that I try to speak. I dread
colliding against this familiar: when the memory gathers
like burning hands around your throat.

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