Driving

You're sitting there reverous
to the brim with something 
that feels like seventeen
year cicada sleep, and
gray turned gold
ripping through the
branches,
pollen seedlings
pluming and
humming a
rolling drone,
racing breath,
restless fingers.

 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741