+ you’re in that city up north and

  you woke up incredibly hungover.

  your friend drove you to the

  train station; and now you’re

  left standing in its parking

  lot, throwing up into a paper

  bag you got from the

  supermarket. the watery vomit

  leaks onto the pavement, onto

  your shoes. you sit down on

  the curbstone when you’re done,

  take a sip of water, and the

  warm june sun warms your bones

  as you stare into the sky

​

+ your bruised ribs hurt, but they

  will heal

​

+ clawing your way out of

  purgatory and waking up to see

  the morning sun clawing its way

  across the grey sky

​

+ the first breath after breaking

  through the pool water's surface