Tréa Lavery
When the Door Opens
When the door opens
I will breathe in the earth and exhale the sky
(It tastes like lavender and goes down like butter)
And the clouds will tell me that, damn, it’s nice to see me again.
Wake up and smell the sunshine, baby
And join me for a swim under the Eliot Bridge.
Love that dirty water?
We bleached our throats and so the river’s fine.
We’ll eat goat cheese and jam on a squeaky-clean green hillside
And smear dirt on our cheeks and the tips of our noses.
What’s even the worry?
Just like the worms, we’re whole again,
Not that we ever really fell apart in the first place.
Those clouds sure do shine brightly
When we’re out here in the rain.
—Submitted on
Tréa Lavery‘s poems have appeared in Hashtag Queer, Memory & Remembering, and the anthology Shades of Pride (TL;DR Press, 2019), as well as other journals and anthologies. She lives in Boston. Twitter @TreaLavery
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