I would be polishing tarnish from spoons or rearranging
the cabinet instead of standing, upstaring
at swaying loblollies in the near-rain.
I would be slicking the sidewalks. I’d be a
coil of my own hair swimming the surface
of a milk-filled cup in the dirty sink. I’d have
a different nose, no sloping, vector down
from my eye. I could draw soft
with chalks, could draw your hands holding
more than atmosphere. From here near the forest and where
I’m dropping lives like leaves there isn’t much
to tell you about what days I do keep.
Emma Aylor is the author of Twos (Dancing Girl Press, 2014). She lives in Raleigh, North Carolina.