i used to wear these clothes
by Lena Judith Drake
the mornings are worse,
with amnesiac sleep and sudden shaking
recollection, with a rusty spoon
and half a serving of cereal.
i'm better when i'm with you. it's twisted, i know.
i am detached and dangling
by the wet near-curls of your hair.
you kissed me inside the front door of your father's house,
and i felt it sharp, hard,
a twinge of pressure, and i was surprised.
i thought you were an exception.
you moved your finger in a slow circle on my back
every time we kissed.
i remember you.
you're shivering in your mint chocolate chip jacket
and waiting, hand open and cold,
by the flagpole in the morning
Lena Judith Drake is the editor-in-chief of Breadcrumb Scabs magazine. In her spare time, she enjoys Chinese buffets, hot showers, and sleeping. For more information and previous publications, please visit her website: Lena Judith