Angelica Whitehorne
To Survive the Summer
Let me check your pulse. Let me put my head in the freezer when
I want to scream. Let me put the fan on high. Let me run down the
parched cement to a hot weather song. Let me always choose to come
back, right before sunset and stinking, but still a good daughter.
Let my key always fit the lock. Let me open the door and find that
everything is right where I left it: solitary and safe.
Our traumas can be cracked, can be soft-boiled, run nicely over fresh
bread. Let us have a full breakfast. Let us crack the windows open,
invite the flies as brunch guests. Let us cry into our glasses of
sparkling grape, and fall sweat first into the non-bargain summer
we begged for.
I want to scream. Let me put the fan on high. Let me run down the
parched cement to a hot weather song. Let me always choose to come
back, right before sunset and stinking, but still a good daughter.
Let my key always fit the lock. Let me open the door and find that
everything is right where I left it: solitary and safe.
Our traumas can be cracked, can be soft-boiled, run nicely over fresh
bread. Let us have a full breakfast. Let us crack the windows open,
invite the flies as brunch guests. Let us cry into our glasses of
sparkling grape, and fall sweat first into the non-bargain summer
we begged for.
Biography
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Angelica (she/her/hers) is a writer from New York who enjoys creating stanza-formatted cultural rants, making the mundane the magnificent, and slipping cuss words into otherwise prettily crafted lines. She has published or forthcoming work in Westwind Poetry, Mantis, The Laurel Review, The Cardiff Review, North Dakota Quarterly, and Hooligan Magazine, among others. Find her on Instagram: angelicawhitehorne and on her website: https://angelicawhitehorne.myportfolio.com
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