Legs like lengths of root,
latching into soil
holding me down.
Like the weight
of a thousand rain filled shoes
discarded on front porches
after morning walks in wet grass.
I used to get up early
to walk in the dewy dandelions
before my legs wobbled like unreliable twigs
ready to snap under pressure —
just like my emotions.
Emotions, tears, and depression
are silly things you aren’t allowed
to mention in poems.
Like breaking the fourth wall,
naming the cliché.
Well lately I’ve been swimming
in rivers of dew
drinking from discarded shoes
filled with rainwater.
I’ve been visiting old memories,
calling out at night for what’s left
to bring back my old life.
Jenna Neece works for Oklahoma State University English Department, is an Assistant Director for the OSU Writing Center, an Editorial Assistant for the Cimarron Review, and teaches Freshman Composition at OSU. Recently, Jenna’s poetry has been published in Rising Phoenix Review, Quail Bell Magazine, Eunoia Review, and she has work forthcoming from Monstering.
