Hanging onto the thread of September
Hoping each fiber will pull me closer
To packed boxes taped
To the corners of our four-door
When the rubber licks the road
Tears tiptoe the fine hairs of salted cheeks
To a sweat speckled lip
Trembling with sweet possibility
Fraying the end of a fiber
With every goodbye and
You have to come visit!
The sparkle never leaves an eye
Even when it cries
Camille is a writer and out-of-practice gospel singer who has lived in Boston, Harlem, and Paris. In her spare time, she thrifts vintage picture frames and takes way too many pictures of her elder cat.