Bad days

On bad days their voices echo
in my head and the imprints
of their fingers are shadows
I can never chase away.

I watch a cardinal’s flight
but the red flash against snow
is my own hair whipping across pale skin,
a head thrown side-to-side in [insert emotion here].

On bad days innocuous muscle aches
from my workout yesterday return
the ache of my body
straining against one three times larger.

I listen to the teedle-teedle-teedle
echoing through the woods
from male cardinals bright red and advertising
for sex or predators
echoing the never-never-never refrain
I can’t shake from my brain,
getting better.

Poem by Annie Jadin,


9 thoughts on “Bad days

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