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Volume 2 Number 2 • Fall - Winter 2010-2011
In your past incarnation you were an owl, white as the
dandelion seed.
In my last manifestation, I was a field mouse; I made a nest of
clover and lilac petals.
You swooped down and swallowed me whole. In the fall,
my nest rotted away.
Now you spend your whole life chasing
after me,
punishment.
You dream of floating like the dandelion seed.
I braid my hair and tie it up, still in mourning,
but not so much that I cut these locks.
Not so much that I forget the night.
All for you.
All for this.
Have you learned your lesson never to swallow your desires
whole?
Or, did you leave without finishing?
I always wanted a place to call home.
But everywhere I've ever lived felt less.
Never made it back to that little nest.
This is why tubs are better than showers.
I can't come to such conclusions standing up.
Tomorrow I will plant a lilac bush, and yes, I will pluck the dandelions,
down to the root, and not think of you.
Not. Once.
Charlie MF Broderick does two things in life: write and avoid writing.