In the Time of our Sorrow
By Rachel Kann
My tongue wants to un-gate the flood, it is
an urgent compulsion to spill knotted guts,
in these weeks of banned melody,
my lips wants to rebel,
to howl,
to sing
of my suffering,
of all my shortcomings,
every rejection,
every threat to our collective existence,
the abandonment unabated,
of how my heart is a bitter almond,
spilling with cyanide,
splitting its endocarp,
longing only for the orchard,
of how my heart...