Gait Training

I come home from the nail salon,
pressing my thumb like snow.
She said it would be dry by now,
but I no longer take people’s words

at face value. I am more cautious now,
moated. I have more smokestains
in the chimney, and the helix
of my ear still stings a bit.

I miss the way you chew your food
of all things.
I miss the way you rub your neck,
and I miss the way we used to play

Mermaids in the pool—you were not there
for that, but my God, you would’ve loved it,
we could’ve bruised every cheek of the world,
big gashing bites of peach flesh in our mouth—

we could’ve mothed to every continent together,
and now there are stems everywhere.
And you have left a mere edge of pink
where your body should be.

If time is like bright beads
on a string, I hope
it tangles a bit, so we can meet
each other
again.

I hope in another time,
we are dragging one another
to the ends
of the earth.

Virginia Laurie is an English major at Washington and Lee University whose work has been published in LandLocked, Phantom Kangaroo, Cathexis Northwest Press and more. https://virginialaurie.com/