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a memoir-

of the summer she regained her childhood,

once lost under poems of suicide, pictures of

family reunions, birthdays, funeral dates she'd rather not remember;

in the fields behind her grandparents house she remembers

running closer to God, leaving tears behind.

a thought-

she missed on autumn days, records spinning

but she shots the body with her deep, meaningful words,

eyes closes as she sips the sweetness of the country;

and as stars shoot past, she whispers profounds:

tis just life in motion to me.

a february-

which she held dear to her heart, observing insects under rocks,

poking softly until she understood, i am unique;

by the time, she ran home without fear,

laughter rising as she screamed i love you -

to no one in particular.

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