Poetry

Seven One Six

On potential, falling, and feeling safe

lottery tickets behind a gas station counter the way metallic wrapping on an uncorked champagne bottle glistens like Bermuda grass in a flickering breeze that smells of looming rainfall or the plastic packaging of grocery flowers in a refrigerated casing it wouldn’t peel off, so she could see the seven on the sticker

wispy clouds too airy to barricade the sun’s vigor when it can’t escape falling like leaves on hikes to cold peaks, in a slow but fated autumn or the way feet dance after a leap from a wooden dock that’s too hot to be afraid of heights or cascading whiskey as it cloaks a shimmering ice rock in amber one time i left it out, so the Demerara turned bitter

caramel coffee shares a cupholder with an almond croissant the way the paper bag catches the condensation droplets and the bacon grease from a morning bagel threatening warm white linens that hide from the day behind dark drapes or the umbrella in a downpour that opens like a safety chute i had to jump, for six years i knew that happiness was with her