whose hours I wanted to tie to my heaviest thoughts
watch them sink, really sink
until even the ocean floor
tried to spit them up
whose minutes I wanted to crumble into sand
watch them fall
from the top of the moon to the bottom
until she opened up
let the ocean eat them
whose seconds I wanted to inflate with my breath
watch them float
until even the stars
became mobile
there were days I broke mirrors
polluted my sky with pen ink
suffocated clocks with my pillow cases
— or tried to
these days now my brother, my sister
these days became my hands and my feet
knew them like my eyes knew lined paper.
but the mornings, the sun
always returned
so did I
— so will you
Alauna Ricketson
Alauna Ricketson’s poetry and non-fiction has appeared in literary magazines at San Diego, Miramar, and Mesa colleges (Mesa is where she took her favorite poetry class: Climate Change Poetry, led by professor Scott Starbuck.) She lives in San Diego with her basset hound and everyone in her life calls her “Rocket.” She carries that fire with her, believing everyone has a story that deserves to be heard – including Earth.
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