by Theresa Senato Edwards
Inhalation.
We wrote this doctrine of rain.
I’d like to say we had a conversation,
but we didn’t.
We all have our trauma nadir, the umbilicus
from which everything
originates.
They won’t find the print of our
heels. They won’t even
smell our DNA,
and I can’t even cry.
Scraping when you had only ever
been a curse.
I call for a reckoning of time.
Always smiting this & that.
Had I only tied the play apron
around my waist,
trespassed & thieved art supplies
& gibberish.
I sought a product called God.
I chose what belongs to earth.
Lines taken from Diane Seuss’s frank: sonnets and Mai Der Vang’s Yellow Rain
Theresa Senato Edwards has published three poetry books—one, with painter Lori Schreiner, winning The Tacenda Literary Award—and two chapbooks. Nominated twice for a Pushcart, once for Best of the Net, and once for Best Small Fictions, Edwards is also a full-length poetry manuscript reader for Trio House Press. Her website is http://www.theresasenatoedwards.com.
A-minor 