Pulled at me, sticking
to my edges
like torn paper.
I thought of the way the snow feels
Beneath my feet
And when you lay desperate on the ground
Until the ice turned you numb
And for a moment,
I forgot to feel anything.
Your face was never very far from home
So I thought of the pecan trees
Shedding their fruits
And the endless murmuring
Of the silence that comes
After the stars have blinked you away
Leaving behind nothing
But that song you used to sing
Before the machine's rhythm
Became you.
Allison Guitard is a human living in Baltimore, Maryland. Her life consists mostly of touching plants and sharing with others through food justice work. Sometimes she writes words on paper.
