Yesterday’s Sky

by Abby Gibson


“tentative, somewhat cautious and not necessarily earthshaking.”
there is a process when you are closing in on death
raw meat flung on the shoulders of prophets
clasping the rings orbiting around your neck
suffocating each vein so there is not an ounce
of those precious blood cells left to flow
to your aching brain

this is getting a little too personal, give me a minute

last afternoon I stopped by the house you grew up in
and we sat there digging pebbles and handfuls of dirt
your mother, sleeping- right beside me
as I shoved worms into modified tube socks
that I found in an old drawer in your bedroom
she whispered softly, to look up and think of you

Author Bio: Abby Gibson is 17 and attends Warsaw Community High School. She enjoys music, dance, poetry, and longboarding. In her spare time, she likes to take naps and watch detective shows.