and when i by Alison Leigh Znamierowski

when you left in summer
i watched moonlight fall
squarely onto your pillow
where your full-moon shoulder
once waxed and waned
with each breath beside me

when you left in autumn
i watched the trees
set themselves on fire in the name of
self-preservation
and winter expose
their wiry limbs

when you left in winter
i dragged my teeth across my lip
and skin stripped away like birch bark,
peeled away like the wallpaper
of a neglected home

and when i showed up for spring
i was all-raw and ready,
faded freckles waiting to forgive
the sun’s abandon

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about the author:

Alison Znamierowski graduated from Wesleyan University with a B.A. in Sociology. She loves engaging with spontaneous impulses for adventure, wandering barefoot, and making people look at photos of her cat, Luna. Her writing has been published in HelloFlo, Loam Magazine, Shapes We Make, Proud2BMe, Feministing and I Am That Girl. She is currently living in Maine, exploring the worlds of expressive art and writing through volunteering at Spindleworks and The Telling Room.