“Winter Break”
by Katherine Dempsey
Thick lavender scents of time replace what once was.
I’m not sure what I think I remember,
Or why that thought is gnawing
At my patience for the hands to center.
When will the past start calling?
The familiar giggle from my mother
Relieves me, my lungs deflating.
How much longer can this be prescribed?
What if the thought finally came to me–
Nostalgia is my retroactive medicine.
Acrylic imprints in my palms,
I wish I were a dog, sniffing
For leftover time.
Freshly ripped carpet and a new curtain–
The hands spin round and round.
I think I can outrun them.
With one weak breath, I am exhausted.
