A poem contemplating the first things done after lockdown.
When the doors open again
and the sunlight shines through the dusted curtains
I like to imagine that I will sing.
Breathe in the wavering summer breeze,
breathe out the smothering foggy distance.
When I open my mouth
the words I wished to scream at the top of my lungs
will fall out in couplets
of pages
of petals
of pumpernickel toast.
My arms will flay out beside me
as I lay in the dewy, speckled grass
and I will keep laying until the sun goes down
and I will keep laying until the sun goes down
Poem Written By Emily M. Hill.
(She/Her)