The day before yesterday’s sky was a wall of white flowers and I said let’s reemerge into this world together. The sky’s undancing petals reflected the sun dutifully the whole atmosphere smelled like gardenias: like cream and spice and the day’s changes. And I said let’s come back together into being I said let’s be together again while the sky kept flowering and growing whiter.
Yesterday’s sky was a friendly gesture, the wave of a delicate hand and I said, we’ll always feel things intensely like a strong grip like a pounding I said we’ll never lose that. Strong feelings don’t drown the rest they pull the strings of other feelings taut. That’s what I said when the sky was waving its delicate hand. It was being so polite and pink and waving to us and I was talking about how feelings have strings attached to them and I was waiting for its hand to reach down so I could not touch it.
Today’s sky a fountainous thing an overflowing river of a thing and I said, I want to get high and eat sushi. The sky was open and brave and youthful in an ancient kind of way and I said I want to walk around the small rooms of my home, thinking of loneliness but not being lonely, chopsticks arriving at my lips again and again and again.
Abbey Cliffe’s work is published in Issue Sixty-One of The Racket Journal.