“a memory of tomorrow”

by Allison Grace

There is a grief in never knowing.

Of creating our own seasickness even when the water

barely laps at our toes and still we find ourselves

bodies wrought with sorrow and rung out of tears

fighting listlessly against the ripples.

Still wondering what comes next 

as if standing ankle-deep in wishes, telling stories 

that don’t build in pages for tomorrow, 

will open up something new. 

Will ease the guilt of never knowing.

For every day until forever I would take the grief

if it meant at least knowing. Then maybe

I wouldn’t find myself fabricating funerals in my mind

until I am drowning in a storm of my own creation.

And I could finally say goodbye.

But I know

there is no ocean, there are no more tears. 

And for the one who has seen the world 

in everything but herself, there is

no tomorrow.

Allison Grace (She/They), is a lover of tea and all things literary. Born and raised in Chicago, Illinois, Allison writes coming-of-age poetry and prose that explore the challenges of everyday experiences. Published in Small Leaf Press, Powders Press, Ink Drinkers Magazine, and more.