crate

unspun moon

by Linda M. Crate

creaking beneath the floorboards
i am a promise forgotten
even the wind can’t whisper my name
fearing i might break
recollections are cold, i can’t even remember
who i was supposed to be or the color
of my skin; all i know is that i am limping in and out of
conciousness, dancing on the rim of obscurity
no one can tell me what my name is —
just another girl buried beneath the floor,
gasping for the breath of white flowers hung neatly
ordered perfection in a world of chaos;
thoughts are wounded as living is,
my perspective is buried beneath the lining of some
silver cloud yet to be birthed into existence —
all i want to remember is the topography of a smile,
for i fear i’ve cried rivers into being whilst
searching for myself in the heart of stars
maybe i’m a piece of moon silver
unspun and walking, woken for some purpose
that has yet to come.

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Linda M. Crate is a Pennsylvanian native born in Pittsburgh, but she was raised in the rural town of Conneautville. She attended and graduated from Edinboro University of Pennsylvania with a degree in English-Literature in 2009. Her poetry, articles, reviews, and short stories have appeared in several journals online and in print