Sprinting on Sprained Ankles,
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You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. -Mary Oliver rain drips from the trailer onto my forehead. it feels like a communion. and i'm working on letting things feel holy, on letting things sit a little longer. i'm trying to be more than a vehicle driven by desire, tired of burning each time i imagine a distance. i'm thinking about all the times people have said you'll be eaten alive. i've already made short work of myself— i sprint on sprained ankles, cut no slack for someone with a long list of bruises. at every desert's mouth, my knees are the only place i have to stand. |
Katey Linskey is a writer with poetry out in Rise Up Review and The West Review. She draws from her experiences growing up in Boston and later living in India and Guatemala. She spent six years working in global health and currently works as a ghostwriter.