Dry (2015)

moon over clay

cracks in the ground

where there used to be waterways

I curled up

so safe in the mud

and woke to find dust

stretching for miles

 

neon lights

over condo complexes

trash in the streets

where there used to be

no directions

gridwork

pressed to the earth

‘til it’s flat, mathematic, and mild

 

don’t look back

I already erased all tracks

with the wind in my lungs

if you find yourself

lost in the desert

just know I left no melody

to guide you home

 

I lost my wings

two winters ago

but I tried very hard to stay me

wake up at dawn

with the parking brake on

stuck at the end

of a dead end road

 

I took off my shirt and told

you to count all the stars in my skin

but you thought they were scars

in the whole damn sky

and I believed you

 

fuck my life

I wasted so much time

giving all of my raindrops away

when I should’ve been saving them

surrendering dirt

to metal and bone

 

at the edge now

looking down

at an obvious absence of green

you tried to blame me

for flooding the fields

but you never wanted the trees

 

I like

to stay in

on Friday nights

dance alone in my room

drink red wine out the bottle

and listen to Blue

reminding myself

this is “only a dark cocoon”…

 

tune over time

I keep trying to rewrite the world

so I fit inside

but each word I rain

on ungrateful terrain

ends up bleeding it dry

 

sometimes I like me

and sometimes I don’t

but I’m done having to decide

between worthless and worthwhile

done counting the days

‘til I grow back more able

 to fly

 

that’s that

I’m never coming back

I’ve got mountains to build

I’ve got valleys to hollow

and rivers to fill

not one note left to

undo this desert

© 2020 by LAURA TUTHALL. All rights reserved.