the stage manager is tearing seams and drinking salty coffee (a book of poems by

all i know of september

gray skies and thin skirts and dry sidewalks. my hands so shaky I drop my teaspoon. construction work in my head and painting sad blue watercolor after sad blue watercolor. listening to music so loud God can hear it. I grow skinny and wear sweaters with the longest sleeves I can find to hide the scars. The girls I look for in poetry only to find my cold bed and the yank of unspooled thread. Isolation. Pale September, I wore the time like a dress that year. Unknowingness, and the little ones chattering. This is what I know of September. This is what I know of myself.

8.14.15