Maroon Skirt on a Sunday Morning

Tuesday, June 15, 2021

no warning shot / I woke to the sirens of my veins on fire / anxiety claimed me before sunrise / on that Sunday / I dragged myself across the dirty bedroom floor / pulling up with myself / tights and a maroon skirt / I offset it with a  knitted mustard cardigan / I could gnaw through the stitches of this lifetime / as my parents slept / my dented silver car ventured down my hometown road / I swear I could hear it cough when it met winter air / ten minutes later I met the old church / as it’s bells crowed for dawn / hymns poured into me and still I shook / but I found my teeth were unclenched / when I ventured passed the walnut doors / I noticed the way the sun spoke to the ice / pulled awake for the first time in months / skating down that road for a lifetime / I am alive 

This poem was printed in Issue 2 of Northern Otter Press.

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