Poetry: Following a Night with Three Marxists in which I Did Not Speak a Word –Taylor Daynes

Following a Night with Three Marxists in which I Did Not Speak a Word

A chilly morning.

I can’t think
what to blame.

Hollow’s how I feel.
I walk to buy milk

for breakfast
and test my voice

on the cashier.
The early light is yellow.

It is my fingers’
elongated shadows

blocking sun for puppetry—
I watch them

as if I were not
their brain—

that catch me
being solid.

I cry lugging home
my bag of milk

so close it is
between me and day.

Taylor Daynes grew up in Wenham, Massachusetts. She currently resides in Baltimore, where she writes, teaches and is pursuing an MFA at The Writing Seminars at Johns Hopkins.

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