but if I don’t then wheel me to a window
in my own house and don’t assume
I don’t understand an acoustic guitar,
the hum of smalltalk, or cinnamon
from the kitchen. Don’t ask me if I remember,
behave as if I do. If you can, weave the complex
colored yarns of what I love into a simple
white blanket. When you leave don’t say
I am not there anymore
and when you come back
bring your dog.
Published in Open Arts Forum on .
Sara Clancy is a Philadelphia transplant to the Southwest. Her chapbook Ghost Logic won the 2017 Turtle Island Quarterly Editors Choice Award. Among other places, her poems have appeared in Off the Coast, The Linnet's Wings, Crab Creek Review, The Madison Review, Misfit Magazine, Avatar Review and Verse Wisconsin. She lives in the desert with her husband, their dog, two ordinary cats and a psychotic cross-eyed one.
More by Sara Clancy →
Publishing creative work and building a community around writers, artists, readers, and editors.
