it is January and I am no longer afraid

by H. Nicole Martin

Walking down the street, biting into an apple            I mean rending the skin with every
toothed grin,
nothing hesitating
after meeting my psychiatrist who                        gestured to the tissues on a table
by the wall painted                  white and pebbled with stones, that I ran my fingers over while
she was out of the room discussing just what antidepressant                        came next, and then,
that apple and how I clattered the sidewalk, thinking                  how pleasant it is to chew
loudly and ungainly on a
day teased with sun, that if I could be      this happy, licking the sweet trails from
my fingers and staring down every lap of sky            treading with my boots
while thinking of the phone call from my lover                  who said I forgive you,
let’s do it                         again, let’s try. Well,
then I would take any pill in the world, to                  tooth an apple core and fleck my eyes
to the blue opening                           there, between the clouds.

H. Nicole Martin is a writer and poet living in New York City. Their work has appeared in or is forthcoming from them, Cinema Skyline, The Lingua Journal, Hobart Pulp, and elsewhere. They are currently working on their first manuscript and doing the crossword in pen. Haunt them @hnicolemartin.