summer storms

by K. Rice

Cruelty to me is the stoplights never staying red 

long enough for me to think about how

"He occupies his body again"

made it sound like the poison was just something to sweat out.

Like this dream was something I could have controlled

if I could reach inside a synapse and grab

a fistful of sedative

and wake up on purpose for once.

Between me and this highway,

I hang from these words like milkweed,

moonlight on the wall signaling seasons

when I cocoon myself away from the grief

and the loose threads of you everywhere all over

this damn house:

When every day is a choice

I either die in my wraps or fly away.

K. Rice (she/her) is a creative based in Los Angeles, CA. She currently studies urban planning at UCLA. In her downtime, you can find her at Philz Coffee working on passion projects and sipping a Honey Haze.