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Pollen Count by Danielle Marie Cahill
Pollen Count Danielle Marie Cahill This poem first appeared in The Quarter(ly).
My computer tells me the weatherThere is a high pollen count todayAs if that matters deeply to someoneImprisoned in a glass towerAt night, my daughter asks if I saw the rainShe mimics the pattering noise with herFingers over the mound of the duvetI pretend I did.The she reminds me how in FebruaryWe stuck out our tongues to feel snowflakesFalling–so gentle and so coldWe both catch imaginary wisps for a whileI tell her that I love the rainTomorrow, I must go outside to feel the dropsOn my face–not learn about it far too lateIn the left-hand corner of my shining screen
My computer tells me the weatherThere is a high pollen count todayAs if that matters deeply to someoneImprisoned in a glass towerAt night, my daughter asks if I saw the rainShe mimics the pattering noise with herFingers over the mound of the duvetI pretend I did.The she reminds me how in FebruaryWe stuck out our tongues to feel snowflakesFalling–so gentle and so coldWe both catch imaginary wisps for a whileI tell her that I love the rainTomorrow, I must go outside to feel the dropsOn my face–not learn about it far too lateIn the left-hand corner of my shining screen
More from Danielle Cahill ↓
- @daniellecahillwriter on Instagram
- This poem is published in The Quarter(ly)
You can hear me read Soft Plastic by Danielle over on Instagram @rembrandts.cure
Mentioned in this episode:
Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️
🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️
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By Maggie DeversPollen Count Danielle Marie Cahill This poem first appeared in The Quarter(ly).
My computer tells me the weatherThere is a high pollen count todayAs if that matters deeply to someoneImprisoned in a glass towerAt night, my daughter asks if I saw the rainShe mimics the pattering noise with herFingers over the mound of the duvetI pretend I did.The she reminds me how in FebruaryWe stuck out our tongues to feel snowflakesFalling–so gentle and so coldWe both catch imaginary wisps for a whileI tell her that I love the rainTomorrow, I must go outside to feel the dropsOn my face–not learn about it far too lateIn the left-hand corner of my shining screen
My computer tells me the weatherThere is a high pollen count todayAs if that matters deeply to someoneImprisoned in a glass towerAt night, my daughter asks if I saw the rainShe mimics the pattering noise with herFingers over the mound of the duvetI pretend I did.The she reminds me how in FebruaryWe stuck out our tongues to feel snowflakesFalling–so gentle and so coldWe both catch imaginary wisps for a whileI tell her that I love the rainTomorrow, I must go outside to feel the dropsOn my face–not learn about it far too lateIn the left-hand corner of my shining screen
More from Danielle Cahill ↓
- @daniellecahillwriter on Instagram
- This poem is published in The Quarter(ly)
You can hear me read Soft Plastic by Danielle over on Instagram @rembrandts.cure
Mentioned in this episode:
Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️
🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️