Aleathia Drehmer – Poem


I woke to another year
the room thick with sleep
and the dead heat of summer.

A hangover loomed in my head,
the islands and their rum less kind
then I hoped they would be.

I stood in the kitchen
watching the sun beam through
a prism in the picture window

feeling as if something
were missing, something valuable
I could never get back.

The day appeared brilliant
and full at 8am; spilling with promise
and adventure despite
the blinking light.

The message on the phone
said she had finally died
marking another birthday
I’d never forget.


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