It is the last day of May, and this poem is not about you, any more than life is about that wave of relief that swept over me when my skin recognized the particular smooth plastic back and ridged face of the cell phone amidst the jumble of books and booklets and cosmetics and everything else crammed into this purse, any more than hunger is about crushed red pepper flakes or the radio about static.

Allison Boyd can usually be found teaching English, staring at the ceiling, or watering heat-stricken jasmine vines. Allison’s work has appeared in The Penwood ReviewNibble, and Eunoia Review.

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