if you have something to say say it
thick-coated anticipation
you have a habit of staring into the nearest brightest light
horse galloping dirt fast toward you
your sadness unhidden momentous
hiding future illness in your blood
where we first kissed the claustrophobic purple room wipes her snot on my neck
another glass of water another benadryl hours pass the sun descends to sleep
blue handkerchief hangs at the side of the bed
you say this happens each first warmth of winter
but it happens every time birds wing from the distance
a swarm an inevitable oncoming pressure


(originally published in Modern Literature, Spring 2020)