Arts & CulturePoetry
m.nicole.r.wildhood

her gloveless hands presenting dusty news
her crisp brown eyes rising and quickly plummeting to her graying sneakers with each
squeaky swipe of the automatic doors as shoppers exit, heavy bags swinging from
their elbows
this word in front of that word that you hear yourself say to her

we suffer
when we believe in things
we do not understand

Arts & CulturePoetry
m.nicole.r.wildhood
The honest power of a winter-shocked sun is doing its best
 
but it still looks like the scarce light is coming from the blue.
 
The sky among the clouds is like chipped paint—
 
nothing is falling, though.