A Sore Throat

By. Jennifer Caviola

A Sore Throat 

Here, in the air, lies your life and I am searching for you. 

Sometimes I look for the reason why I am my mother’s daughter.

I will never have a daughter
Because I know what its like to want more. 

At night, when the window beckons me, I see rooftops and dark sky and
they seem a little bored so I scream for their purpose and 

finally feel as though I was good for something. 

Absence of a pair of arms has destined my search to go no further than that. 

Some days are quieter than others and
my mother doesn’t know how quiet it gets after I scream.

Sore throats don’t take away from the sky’s beauty. 

One week brings one life flowing from one core to the next.

I am a struggling threat ready to show my insides
to whoever is around. 

Create snowflakes with these cigarette ashes

and take back your knocking on my door
because it shatters me. 

And then I had a daughter. 

As a dandelion turns to seed,

A sore throat blew them away.

The wind will catch them
And carry them up to the sky. 

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