by Ryleigh Wann
is a burden / i mean some days / and when i say some days / i mean most days / i am stilled in a moment / held captive by a cloud / but the cloud is a storm / built from wisps of lost time / a road trip we never took / map tucked away / in a neighborhood only you / knew how to find / i am wrapped in the silk sheets / of this daydream / a bit too tightly / it reminds me of my bed / which i haven’t left / since the trees outside my window / had leaves of green / not yet fading / and every time i dream / it’s the same / fantasy / wishing i could stay in the solitude / of that early morning / with you / in my shoebox apartment / when the AC was broke / high humidity making itself known / rolling into a june afternoon / blurring into the months ahead / but i have heard the scream / of a southern cicada / and it is unforgiving / since you left / i am exceptionally afraid / of swallowing things / whole / my own teeth / my retainer / my melatonin / birth control / prozac / gets stuck in my throat / until the desperate gulps of water / choke it down / a chalky paste / and i guess this means i miss you / or at least / the space you occupy / in these daydreams / i create / to defend how i found myself / wallowing / in unwashed sheets
Ryleigh Wann is an MFA poetry candidate at UNC Wilmington. A previous reader for Chautauqua literary journal, she has learned a lot about the publishing world and is eager to try and finally publish her own work. When she’s not writing poetry or reading, she can be found playing with her dumbo rats, bike riding, or exploring the nearby swamps.