The Orchid Journal

I eat jam so rarely It grew a bit scary In the back of my small Frigidaire. One's appetite wanes With phantom stomach pains At the sight of jam with white hair. By Laelia Watt

I tripped on a rise in the sidewalk when I told my dad about you Rare is the heartthrob admitted out loud That momentary stumble My lips are sealed Tighter than my heartstrings Accustomed to scars Silence is safest The same street we walked, the same route that takes me to you I remember the moment every time I pass That momentary stumble My lips are sealed But even concrete cracks ~~~ Laelia Watt 11/19/2015