I was born breach and reaching
for a Bible and a break-up song.
It’s eight months to the day
since I last saw you.
I’ve weaned myself of counting breaths,
redeemed myself by wanting less;
it’s only when I dream
that I break and call you.
Sunrise sees me clothe the bones,
braid my hair, and carry on.
Summer’s come and almost gone –
wolf and wheel.
Let autumn steal my time to think.
Winter, chill my blood to ink.
Spring is soon enough for me
to thaw and feel.
Kelli Simpson is a mother and poet living in Norman, Oklahoma. She has had poems published in Bewildering Stories, One Art Poetry Journal, Gyroscope Review, Lamplit Underground, Taco Bell Quarterly, and elsewhere.