“march”

by Adele Evershed

In my shed sprays of daffodils name the light—glowery

And Armstrong’s trumpet names the noise—a perfect din 

But they are all substitutes for the hard to bare feelings of survival

When I was young I was asked to choose 

Between a frog jumping—or its rumble   

Of course I picked the lovely splash

Now I think about things from the inside out 

And realize it is the enduring noise that is unexpectedly delightful   

Just like an honest rejection or a made-up word so I can tame the light

I get rid of the bodies—drinking sherry in my shed 

Using a stone to weigh the pages of my life  

And stop the ghosts that haunt my bloated heart  

Bitter pollens leave tracks on my blouse

And the brass fanfare tumbles me back 

To another march down a long aisle

Flowers lying like sleeping children in my arms 

Sprinkling freckles on my knickerbocker glory dress 

But at least then the sneezes sounded like cheers 

As I walked into the yellow light

Adele Evershed is an early years educator and writer. She was born in Wales and has lived in Hong Kong and Singapore before settling in Connecticut. Her prose has been published in a number of online journals such as Every Day Fiction, Free Flash Fiction, and Grey Sparrow Journal. Her poetry can be found in High Shelf, Hole in the Head Review, Monday Night, Tofu Ink Arts Press, The Fib Review, Wales Haiku Journal, Shot Glass Journal, Sad Girls Club, and Green Ink Poetry. Adele has recently been nominated for the Pushcart Poetry Prize and shortlisted for the Staunch Prize for flash fiction, an international award for thrillers without violence to women. Visit her website @thelithag.com