She said forgiveness lasted until midnight.
I measure it now in shadows
cast on roots—above ground & twisted,
I lost a full day to penance,
then left it in water to watch it
float. A lesson in density:
whittle your guilt & you can, too.
A lesson in honesty: I live in the river
silts; they are deeper than they seem.
today I asked
the gardener why she
liked weeds, & her mouth
filled with pesticide. I see them
growing by moonlight. I resolve: tomorrow:
find a shovel.
she said; it stills
in the thorns, appears
when late turns early—
as if I didn’t feel it
each night, curled
near my pillow,
river water pooling
by its talon feet
while memory sleeps
lost in the duvet until
it is too cold not to find it
overthinking is like grabbing at roses, the way your hands come
away red & dripping, like you can’t remember if your skin was
always this unreliable & holey
an hour carving this is not me into a bed post in a minute i will change my mind
Kallie Swyer is a junior at SUNY Geneseo, majoring in English (creative writing). Though she loves Geneseo, Kallie is currently studying abroad at Bath Spa University, being inspired by the history and beauty of the English countryside. The last time Kallie was published she was in fourth grade, and she is hopeful that her writing has since improved.