By Juliette Sebock
The walk was dangerous,
but I needed to absorb the energy
whipping in the wind.
It didn’t rain non-stop,
but in bursts of buckets
pouring off my skin.
Then the bucket would drop down
into the well of the earth again.
My shoes, feet, legs,
were coated in mud
like the antithesis of
rolling out pie crust.
I told myself it was okay to cry
between strikes of light, sparking the sky.
But when I tried, I found only coins
pressed against the whites of my eyes.
Juliette Sebock is the author of Mistakes Were Made and has work forthcoming or appearing in a wide variety of publications. She is the founding editor of Nightingale & Sparrow and runs a lifestyle blog, For the Sake of Good Taste. When she isn’t writing (and sometimes when she is), she can be found with a cup of coffee and her cat, Fitz. Juliette can be reached on her website or across social media