Ask Me Anything

November trees line the street, I see them in their lovely perfect rows out the window. One hundred black birds soar in formation, spreading out farther and farther across a whisper gray sky. I plead with the gods for an early snow. Fantasize the smell of it before the first flake even crystallizes deep in the wet white atmosphere. The soul is a frighteningly open space. Chilling in its vastness. Beyond the bone prison. It would be sweet, the attention poets give it, if it weren’t so brutal on the psyche. I curl my fingers around a cigarette, draw the curtain back and blow smoke out into the quiet. There are tear stains on my hollowed heart. Coffee rings on the worn pages which never stop turning in my mind. Imagining what it would feel like to dance along the tree tops in bare feet, I run a finger against the glass and carve a shape into the frost. What to do with so many secrets falling to the earth underneath my chest. Where to run when all the universe is already inside. I let it in. I swallowed it whole. They won’t tell you but I will. The trouble with secrets is that they are true.

4 Replies to “Ask Me Anything”

  1. “It would be sweet, the attention poets give it, if it weren’t so brutal on the psyche” This. And that closing line.
    My goodness, Allison, may your pen be ever blessed! ❀️❀️❀️❀️

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s