by Mariah Conrey
i feel love in all
the strange places.
home moves
i feel it
like a pressure wash.
when it’s there,
i can sense it
as it’s about to rain.
it smells like
hot tubs in snow,
surrounds me
like a warm bath
after the year’s
first snow day.
sometimes it looks
like green eyes,
or blue depending
on the light.
their corners
wrinkled, encased
behind glass lenses.
it smells like love.
home sounds like
dogs barking and
waves crashing
with no violence.
it follows me
everywhere, a welcomed
constant presence.
i know home
exists within this realm,
because i can’t
escape its warmth.
love is alive even with no pulse
love stalks me.
when i feel
nothing but alone
my tears fall
upon visions
of my dad’s chicken,
my mother’s yells,
or love grabbing my hand
before we cross the street.
i feel love in all
the strange places.
when i can’t feel
my pulse but
i’m still somehow breathing,
a stranger smiles
at me and i see god.
as long as i’m breathing
my heart’s warmth
protects me—
to live in the face of it all
and keep my warmth alive
is all i can do.
© Mariah Conrey
Mariah Conrey (she/her) is a second year graduate student of Creative Writing at The University of South Alabama. Her work has appeared in WildSound and Voices From the Trenches: An Anthology. When she isn’t bringing pen to paper, she enjoys running and making homemade ice cream.
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