by Julene Waffle
Sometimes I embrace the stillness of winter,
let it settle into the threads of my veins,
twist itself into the locks of my hair,
but tonight I lock it away
in the drawer where I keep my
lacy things and old letters that
belong only to me.
I knuckle down and sing the stains
from the floors with stockinged feet
and calloused knees. I call down
to Chinatown from my fourth floor window
and tell her “I am here,”
say, “See me. See me.”
I won’t be camouflaged tonight. I won’t
be an accident scissored from
your conscience. I won’t be your
coincidence. I am me and only me,
but I am also part of you.
Julene Waffle is a teacher in Morris Central School and adjunct lecturer at SUNY Oneonta. Besides teaching at Morris, she advises clubs and coaches. She is active in her community and co-owns Colonial Ridge Golf Course in Laurens, NY. She is a mother of three sons, three cats, two dogs, and a bearded dragon. She finds pleasure in juggling these jobs while seeming like she has it all together. She earned degrees from Hartwick College and Binghamton University. Her writing has appeared in The Adroit Journal Blog, NCTE’s English Journal, Mslexia, The Annals of Internal Medicine, The Bangalore Review, Sky Island, The Blue Mountain Review, Sequestrum, among other journals, anthologies, and her chapbook So I Will Remember (Woodland Arts Editions, 2020). Learn more at www.wafflepoetry.com.