by Mary Chandler Philpott
And the sky is good to me; let me count on nothing but the sky, for it is good to me.
I want to cry and cry out, but what use is that? A waste of good saltwater, my tears. And I am not alone, remember? I have you and you and you; I have my words.
Today I spin, I spun, ‘round and ‘round on a velvet table, my needle creeping ever closer to the center, the origin, the spot that is still, that does not move. And when I reached it — for I reached it — I did not like the silence, and started again.
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Mary Chandler Philpott is an MA student at the University of Virginia. She currently lives in Manassas with her fiancé Brandon and their puppy Edward Rochester.