On the bad days,
We open all the windows in the house—
Let the autumn air fall upon our floorboards
Rising like machine-made smoke blurring the ground
Beneath us. 
Heated blankets we curl against each other
On the couch
And watch something familiar.

Someone is burning leaves in our neighborhood
As the chauffeur’s daughter closes the 
Garage doors and one by one turns
The ignition of each car.
I look at you.
You are already asleep, head
Diagonal and downwards, ready
To be carried back up to your room
To cry. 

And I look at the moon,
And wonder when I'll ever stop reaching.

Oh, My Word! Olivia would love to hear from you after reading this poem. Leave a comment below!


Oh, My Word! is a weekly updated blog featuring fiction, poetry, drama, and essays for the world. #OhMyWordWednesday

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Hello! I am a poet and essayist who sometimes likes to share her work with the world! I am currently an English major at the University of Iowa and write as often as I can (when not spiraling into the black voids of the internet).

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