a smattering of things
Jo McCrory is a writer and artist living in northern California.
rare
that i become a flower unfurling in the warm sun
that i would ask the bee to land on my petals
that i reveal this secret garden
that i grant access to the opulence
that i invite anyone within these four walls
that i ask feet not my own to tread softly here because
tiny
hopes
sleep
among
the
vines
-rjm
prompt: rare, from Amy Kay (Instagram)
the way your soul drops anchor in that moment, determined to stay forever no matter the condition of the sea. but you are stronger than the anchor and all the storms combined, so you drag your anchor up the stairs into the cold night and into the snow drifts. you wait with friends until their Uber arrives. your soul inches backward. you draw a heart in the snow. you make a snowball of it and kick it across the parking lot. your soul is a petulant child you have to drag to the car kicking and screaming. you are alone with three cars, the snow, and the knowledge that nothing will ever be the same again. now there is a ghost town. now there is a never again.
you buckle your soul into the passenger seat. you cry together as you drive home through snow that falls like glitter.
sometimes you can’t tell a beginning from an ending.
-rjm
prompt: the come down from Amy Kay (Instagram)
loose threads 