I am, a poem

I am the sticky toffee pudding from our pub down the road

Where quiz nights meet the bright lights of my teenage nights

Constrained by towers of concrete history Mr. Barnett showed me.

I am the Summer Sierras of Northern California

Finding home in the dirt that taught me how to love

From the mountains to the marmots of the country I was raised to hate.

I am my childhood dinners of blini with sour cream

Where the Russian winters keeping me warm

Crashed down as the only reality I knew turned

to a whirlwind move into the future.


Emily Fossum

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