jet fumes settle in my lungs
like secondhand smoke
a lump of iron strapped to my chest, i am a pack mammal
storing my memories like tangible things,
each one a new weight added
to the scale.
clinging to my mother like a pet on a leash
for she is all i know despite my hatred for her
and i hope in vain that the familiarity of her pushing me away
drowns out my uncertainty
as the plane
begins its
descent.
YOU ARE READING
the archives - a poetry portfolio
PoetryA light buzzing distracts you from whatever you're doing. There is an old, weathered monitor on a table next to you. You could have sworn that it had just *appeared* out of thin air. Out of curiosity, you stare at it for a moment. The screen flicke...
