halfway between 16 and 30
unmoored
By Erin Latham SheaPublished 2 years ago • Updated 2 years ago • 1 min read

now the stream runs low. stupored.
the bugs hover impatient and I
must will myself to stand again -
contort my limbs (as if dancing)
in the summer's deadening
muddy music. Arriving here (?)
with an address twice-removed
in the back of my throat and
no appetite. I let him kiss me -
his mouth, all melted ice cream
and some aftertaste of affection I
fear I won’t make sense of for
another decade. Again, I want
an arm to hold on to but I startle
at the sound of someone in the next
room. He serves me peeled fruit
like I’m his five-year-old daughter.
I settle in, unmoored.
About the Creator
Erin Latham Shea
Assistant Poetry Editor at Wishbone Words
Content Writer + Editor at The Roch Society
Instagram: @somebookishrambles
Bluesky: @elshea.bsky.social

Comments (2)
A very evocative, deep piece. I must will myself to stand again I can't tell you the volumes this line spoke.
Great Poem! ❤️💕❤️💕