HOME IS WHERE THE BUGS ARE ! ᵖᵒᵉᵗʳʸ

un año

we take down the christmas tree,
each year we leave a few ornaments on accidentally.
we don't miss them, no.

we shovel the driveway and grow frost on our hair, and find our will to live amongst snowflakes and road closures.

we spend afternoons cursing out football players and yelling at our tvs, we take time to make valentines out of doilies, and we throw them in the trash on top of old banana peels.

we tell ourselves we are giants, and we shed our parkas at the idea of 50° weather, but then it snows again, and it never seems to end.

we teach ourselves bob dylan songs and pray to god that we'll find a flower in our garden. we pray that we'll find light for once. and it doesn't snow, and god lives.

for once we go outside, and for the first time in a long time we laugh, and that is enough for now.

we roll down hills and wish on weeds and take off our shoes in hopes of taking flight when the next wind blows. i find myself next to a cloud that looks like the monster that used to live under my bed. i find this ironic, but i don't share.

we find ourselves hot and temper filled, and we have too much time to do nothing, and although we want to move, trust me, we say the air is too thick and we cower inside waiting for an occasion worth our effort.

we try to hold onto the bits of ourselves we find washed away in the afternoon rain, they slip through our fingers, sometimes on purpose. we eat caterpillar bitten tomatoes from our garden and dribble blood down our chins. we stare at the sky, but the blue isn't much of an answer for anything.

we see the sun setting earlier, and welcome the night with arms open and hearts closed. my brother screams at video games in his room, we continue to muddle through the days.

we fish out our jackets, and make garland out of damp leaves, and weave sweaters out of broken glass. it rains on my birthday, and i dance in the downpour.

we stuff our mouths with lies and turkey legs, and ruin new dresses with cranberry stains like oil spills. we give into the snow, and we gain back something we hid away in the attic of our minds.

we buy a christmas tree in a drugstore parking lot and shake out all the bugs. we unpack the boxes from the basement, there are less ornaments. we buy more.