Vassar Student Review

Vassar Student Review

the morning after the getaway


A.H. Berry

I wake up with arms around you
unstuck in time.
I have no memory
of fumbling
with my backpack,
or chemo-induced retching,
or being in the backseat while
the car drives away,
door still open.

All I know is the clacking of
the chinchillas’ claws in their cage,
a softened, humanized
version of warmth
on your skin,
the sunlight swaddling us both.
I stroke your hair as you stir,
and a part of myself I do not know

gives thanks in ways I do not understand
for the rise and fall
of your chest

and the knowledge that downstairs,
there is pancake bread to be toasted
for you and me
alone.

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