since

by Britta Adams

Late Summer: I don’t know how I am doing [since]

In fact, I haven’t done a single thing [since]

I can’t get out of bed. I know I’m hurt [since]

my bones hum and ache, and I am angry [since]

I still clench my jaw. But I’m not sure what I feel [since] 

Emptiness, a lack of something [since] 

It happened, and I’ve only shivered numb [since]

There is a persistent static [since] 

And I’m tracing the hole [since] 

she left. The cavity. And it feels hushed [since]

her silence. Hushed and immense.

Britta Adams is a poet living in Orem, Utah, with a passion for binging documentaries, playing video games, and baking delicious treats. She has previously published work in Last Leaves Magazine, Exponent II, and Soft Union Literature.

this poem originally appeared in boats against the current issue II