"Sick Day"

Written By

Austin Wallace

I can escape, almost, past

eyes that stare. Feet bare

I squish through mud, puddles

 

forming in my heart. Darting

through the river, fish dodge

jagged stones, worries swarm

 

like flies I soon outrun.

Sunlight dries grass

wet with dew, smooths goose pimples

 

that dot my forearms, thighs. Lengthwise across the sky clouds stretch like cotton pulled apart. A wooden cart, abandoned

 

for Fords, reminds me of errands

as yet undone. One rabbit

watches from the far shore,

 

nervously nibbling grass. A mass

of hyacinths protrudes, purple

bruise on the pale brown land.

 

Somewhere a dying pronghorn's whine

subsides. Beside my bed a nurse

pulls up the blinds.

Austin Wallace is a former teacher who now works as a Disability Rights Advocate, and sometimes writes poetry. His poems have appeared in Abyss & Apex, Extracts, Frogpond, The Stray Branch, and Wordgathering.