today started with yolk spilling over the plate
of the sky. started like a cat curling up in the brightest
patch of carpet. closing my eyes and feeling warmth,
for once. three days of sun, once spoken, jinxed.
back to grey light dimming by the minute.
aren’t we tired of the cliches? i want the sun to be enough.
i want light and warmth and color to be enough.
i want to paint my kitchen lilac. i want enrichment
in my enclosure. i want to leave the apartment today, or
this week. i am tired of living in a sick body.
i mean i am tired of living in a sick body that lives in a world
that does not value the lives of the sick. sick meaning
disabled meaning broken meaning failing. i mean i miss
the sun. i’m tired of cold without snow. forty degrees today,
but what to show for it? the ice is still there in patches.
the grass is dead and uncovered. give me back light
though i didn’t appreciate it enough while i had it. if not light,
give me snow, give me something
bright enough to be called hope. there are chickadees
in the distance. they come and go with the sun.
i am running out of things to be bitter about.
i am running out of excuses to make.
i am running out of daylight, though light stays
longer by the day.
BEE LB is an array of letters, bound to impulse; a writer creating delicate connections. they have called any number of places home; currently, a single yellow wall in Michigan. they have been published in FOLIO, Roanoke Review, and The Offing, among others. they are a poetry reader for Capsule Stories. their portfolio can be found at twinbrights.carrd.co and their workshops can be found at poetryasplay.carrd.co