we let these valleys run deep
in our veins with no questions
anymore. it has become second
nature to know these winds,
to hear the song the leaves sing
before a storm rolls over the
hills on the other side
of the county.

i always thought my
eighteenth year would be
the last i would know the
rustle of the pampas grass
in the early morning or the
way the snow settles deep
over everything beyond our
property. now twenty-three
draws nearer quicker than
a younger version of me
could have ever imagined
and i feel it tightening in
my chest with each passing
day, that small town desire
to find the things i've been
left out of for two decades.

mama used to say i had
the universe in my bones,
told me she thought i
would explode from it, said
just yesterday that there is
a longing inside me that
she doesn't think will ever
be tamed. i never thought
the midwest sun could hold
me, yet i keep bowing at her
feet, keep begging her to
swallow me. maybe if i stay
a while longer it will be
enough to carry with me.

i wonder how much home
i can soak up before i go.