Last night, a songbird slept through
a thunderstorm, and I,
weightless, dreamed of you,
of the scent of your shampoo,
of every tree in a wood responding
to your name.
In every step in every puddle
my reflection drowns from my feet,
shadow watered into light.
Watching myself watching, in passing
car windows, myself,
in each image I cast
into a swarming world, I reach
for you reaching back for me.
Fold my hands with your hands
and I will know what it is to be blessed.
Mary Simmons is a queer poet from Cleveland, Ohio. She is an MFA candidate at Bowling Green State University, where she serves as an assistant editor for Mid-American Review. She has work in or forthcoming from The Santa Clara Review, The Shore, One Art, tiny wren lit, Phantom Kangaroo, and others.
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