an original poem

by Alexandra Adler / Garnet & Black

if i close my eyes maybe 

i’ll remember everything

i shoved under my floorboards 

after you told me that i think too much

i didn’t know what to say to that

except that the tendrils of steam 

from my morning coffee are wrapping 

around the sunbeams tye-dying our 

kitchen table flamingo-pink,

and sunday mornings smell like 

laundry and a thousand i love you’s 

picked up off the floor from where i last 

let them roam free and collect dust;

i have to run them on delicate to make 

out the grooves and capture the feeling 

of the woman in the army-green coat 

who held her daughter’s tiny palm

and whispered those three words

i am a collector

i have loose change and loose

teeth and loose dreams i still beg

to fall from the sky like the stars 

sometimes did when i was young

and the window was a pedestal 

for my hope to dance on

i have armfuls of chocolates and 

bottled air that smells like the sea;

i have been told that i think too much,

but i'd rather dance around a shattered

heart than trudge through the mud 

with blinders on to avoid pricking

tender skin on the truth

my floors are coated in letters, 

trace them like a map until you find

the word you have been looking for