by Sam Smiley
Rosy cheeks and bubbly thoughts
floating up to the heavens and out of our heads
before we can elaborate.
Our tongues are tied in knots;
I giggle when your words escape you.
Parched lips wake at four
longing to be quenched
I sway like there is music playing
that only I can hear.
I am here and hot and fluid,
4am me knows things that
the me of last night did not.
Dreams can open
our seemingly closed thoughts,
allowing truth to pour
from a pitcher of knowledge,
and we are parched.
We suckle the liquid like children
who finally have access to a breast.
We inhale it like lemonade in July,
the sugar sticking to our teeth.
We drink it like college kids drink booze,
long and fast, dying to get a buzz.
I long for truths unseen
when the sun is in the sky.
Although the moon shares more,
the sun knows more.
I want to open her,
to bathe my ignorance in a pool of knowledge.
I fear she will be too hot,
her wisdom igniting my skin.
But it is still night,
The moon looks down at
us drinking wine as if its liquid knowledge
and smoking as if it’ll unlock the key to the sun.
She shakes her head and sighs;
We acknowledge her disappointment but cannot stop:
We know the knowledge won’t be found here, but
We are foolish.
We are young.
We are free.
Artist: Niko c
Sam Smiley is a young writer from Racine, Wisconsin. They currently live in Chicago and attend DePaul University studying physics. Sam writes poetry and short fiction inspired by their experiences in the midwest and abroad in Thailand. They are non binary, use they/them pronouns.