Before She Gets on the Phone

The morning moves slowly and sunlight pours in.
Growing up in Chicago, the memories return.
Everyone knew her emptiness. Into her 20s, she
was just trying to survive for a lark, pumping gas.
She found herself searching for chicken soup,
its strength trickling in. This kind of work makes
her sane. Something’s not right in the church.
How do you word it? What do you do? You can
eat her life. The star grows—her eyes light up.

Standard

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