Skinned Knees

Turn

Skinned Knees
Turn

 

I spend days holding

myself in blankets, holding

 

off on

the oncoming colors

blooming then browning on concrete

 

off on

weeks of friends and sex, I’ll seem

to find sleep less necessary -

 

then

submit to the break or

burst near my lungs, tighten

 

myself against the falling leaves

for fear of strange desolation -

 

doug-fir woods in green winter

green but bleak -


keep distant

 

 

POETRY BY OLIVIA WHITE

ILLUSTRATION BY SARAH MCCROREY