by Sam Moe
The day begins. I press my face against cold
glass and wish I were somewhere else. Do
you remember summertime walks when trees
made shadows over our sneakers, you were
always so good at wearing tall socks to prevent
ticks. I got caught up in daydreams, writing
poetry in my head. I could never talk to you
like I wanted, no matter how many times I
revised my lines. Silence, deep and green as
pines. Then, a field of butterflies. You didn’t
care about the monarchs. You had a water
bottle with a smiley face sticker and a bucket
hat the color of cherries. I thought you loved
me. I went home and lay on the rug, wondering
why I couldn’t say what I wanted to, that if
you ever left, and you hadn’t yet, I would do
everything I could to ensure I’d never turn back.
Sam Moe is the first-place winner of Invisible City’s Blurred Genres contest in 2022, and the 2021 recipient of an Author Fellowship from Martha’s Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing. Her first chapbook, “Heart Weeds,” is out from Alien Buddha Press and her second chapbook, “Grief Birds,” is forthcoming from Bullshit Lit in April 2023. You can find them on Twitter and Instagram as @SamAnneMoe.
