by HILLARY SMITH-MADDERN
–
“We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.” – Andrea Gibson
–
To destroy an empire, all you have to do is drive
straight toward the horizon, foot heavy,
eyes raw from smoke. I can’t say much more,
except the sky split open too easily.
The fields buckled. Even the sheep forgot
where the fences once stood. There were no hills
too small to die on.
Things happen. That’s all
they ever do. Still, someone must remember
which day came before tomorrow. Light leaks
through the detritus like a dervish, arms raised,
spinning toward the temple of his own unraveling.
From his mouth: a prayer to the gods
of hodgepodge, hunger, and time.
Maybe this is how we rebuild.
Not brick by brick, but hand by hand.
Where every mouth hums a song
inspired by each handful of dirt,
and each soul folds an unexploded bomb
into the pockets of its faith.
To survive this world,
you have to find a way to love it.
The wind catches an Albanian flag. A cat
perches on a stone wall, watching.
–
Hillary Smith-Maddern (she/her) is an educator and committed dilettante. A proud cat lady and avid collector of neglected plants, she enjoys diving into the shallow end of everything and scrolling casually through JSTOR. Currently residing in Western Massachusetts, she aspires to fake her death and never return to America. She will obviously take her cats with her. You can find her work in Whale Road Review, Only Poems, and The Disappointed Housewife among others.
© Hillary Smith-Maddern
Halfway Down the Stairs 