Candles hanging from translucent wire
Glow syllabically
Floating with only,
The vibrancy of their presence,
Circulating about
Flame and parked cars
We speak between flickers of
Wax and December frost,
Table set as if to practice
Being vulnerable,
Drawers flipped open
Recipe books recited
Sung aloud as if confession,
Beer is brewed
Turning the microwave into a still,
Ingredients added like nursing
A sapling heart into beating-
The kitchen quivers in anthemic cadence,
Breathing in relief
In laughter
The repetitive nature
Of going in circles to move forward,
If one night becomes a year
Then let it be known
That we do not stagnate in waiting


Author: Montana Svoboda

I'm a genderless poet currently living in Central Michigan where I attend college for Environmental Science and English. Nature's some cool shit, frisbee's a neat activity, fountain pens are best pens, Latakia for life, coffee and tea keep these gears turning.

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