by Nicole Callihan
like the week after a toothache,
when the halo of pain fades,
and there are no longer ponies
running through your field
of vision, and you’ve stopped
praying, stopped bargaining,
stopped listing all you’d give,
please god, if only. If only,
please god. Then: nothing but
the absence of what defined you,
the sound of your own dumb breath.
Copyright ©:
Nicole Callihan
Last updated November 23, 2022