by Stephanie Kendrick
—after Anne Sexton
Under my feet the ground wails for rain.
Leaves have turned and fallen early. I yearn
to shed my skin a hundred times a day.
I know drought the way I knew to cry
entering this world, joining my mother in scream
and I was fed. I know drought
the way I hunger.
Somewhere, women feel this together:
One packs lunch for her child at six AM
One listens to day-old news on a dusk-drive to work
One brushes the matted hair of a stranger’s dog
One takes private selfies in a bathroom stall
One sneaks pot gummies at chemo
One hangs sheets outside to dry
So much space from them to me,
from my words to soil
from rain clouds to here. I want
to shed my skin a hundred times a day.
They said we’d get a storm by now.
They’ll say you’re one thing, but you’re not.
They’ll say you need this one thing,
but they’re wrong.
Everyone in me has thought of flying away
a hundred times today.
Stephanie Kendrick is the 2023-2025 Poet Laureate in Athens, Ohio. She is the author of In Any of These Towns (Sheila Na Gig Editions), Editor of Native Fruit: Poetry and Fine Art Inspired by the Pawpaw, and the editor of a local poetry newsletter, Periodical Poetry. Stephanie hosts monthly open mic Words & Wine on Wednesdays, every 2nd Wednesday of the month. With a Master of Social Sciences from Ohio University, she serves her community in a variety of ways, including through her career at Athens County Board of Developmental Disabilities, and her service on various local Boards of Directors.