dangling slack-armed from the thickest branch
of the wagonwheel pine in the front yard,
vengeance drips from the laces in my tennises,
scattering the leaf-born anchor in my teacup
these days, i am twelve again,
waiting for my grandmother to return from her
casket rest to find me three years
old, ready for rinse in her coral-tinted tub
to the faustal pinecone in the paper bag:
our day is coming soon
Rucker Manley is a writer from Los Angeles, CA, by way of South Georgia, who writes primarily about mental health and trauma, music, and the South. In their free time, they enjoy making cheese and jam and arguing with their cat about nutrition and cuddling. They post on Twitter at @ruckermanley and on Instagram as @ruckermxnley. Their work has previously appeared in Cathexis Northwest Press.
House Journal 