Glass Poetry Press

Volume Three Issue Two

Laura E. Davis


In the thickness I forget to name it: the giant lagging in the oh-so-quiet mornings drinking coffee, when it sneaks past my toes and weights itself to my heel bone or it wreaths itself around my waist. So heavy when it curls up inside the bells of laughter yet to leave my throat. It stalks spidery corners and untouched bookshelves, lays beside me in bed, presses its weight to my back. Waits for me to miss you, then stares at me, taking in tiny breaths.