“Walking West”

between hefty clouds

skyscraper tops play

hide and seek,

with heavy hearts

cold hands fold in

clammy laundry rooms,

why do you get to

decide who I am?

cursing my uterus,

sitting between two

empty red chairs,

I know what you 

don’t want to hear,

and you blindly 

hit, hit, hit.

sun unplugged,

now is the darkest of hours, 

I’m limping towards my angels

armed with a kind soul

and you know nothing. 

ML, March ‘25.