Schism

These are the days
You have to hold on
With both hands.

The wind turns on itself
And you might get caught up
In an eddy of leaves.

Witchings gone haywire,
How many days since
You combed your hair?

And yeah —
You were right
All along.

Crows laugh at you —
Their silhouettes stain
A clotted gray sky.

Write it down
In the red notebook.
Tape up your shoes.

We all know
How
To keep these secrets.

But this is the time
When night builds
Her collection of darknesses.

So hold it tight.
Hold it with both hands.
Don’t let it get away.

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About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

One response to “Schism”

  1. Lindy Lee says :

    Every day above ground is a good day to be alive…

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