By Madison Zehmer
the sound of water droplets falling into the
sink / cruelty of loneliness / what will become
of us / I can’t stop dreaming about young vultures /
eating their own innards just to survive / what will
become of us / I brush my fingertips against
oak and willow shaking from grief and bark falls off /
what will become of us / we all wonder if this
is the end / wonder what will become of us / and
then / a three sentence note from my sister / just love /
and then / a text from my friend / just love / and then / songs
of birds still echoing in trees / just love / just love /
and singing breath / carrying the earth home / just love
Madison Zehmer (she/her) is an emerging writer and wannabe historian from North Carolina, with work published and forthcoming in Gone Lawn, Déraciné, Drunk Monkeys, Kanstellation, and more. Her first chapbook, “Unhaunting,” will be released by Kelsay Books in 2021. Follow her @madisonzehmer on Twitter and @mirywrites on Instagram.
This poem is a part of the DISTANCED project.