“If heaven opened up, the floors of our apartment would fall.”
Poems By Margaret Davenport
PHOTOS BY TAYLOR STOUT
i dream of unpacking
put the boxes on the curb!
throw the suitcases in the attic (because home has one)!
and buy plants
luscious and leafy and chartreuse
whose roots bury
oh, with its buttercups and roses and violets
painting our toes the exact same color
as the morning sky
i see p e e k i n g through
and i know
when we’ve crawled out of our permanent
you will make the coffee
while i feed the cats and the flowers and (maybe!) the kids
and we won’t worry about waking
neighbors who are miles away
with our loud singing and jazz swinging
as our dirty sunrise toes
waltz across wood floor
Living with Love and Her Sisters
Sex, Drugs, Rock’n’Roll.
Spray tans, Powdered Mini Donuts, Dirty Bong Water.
Turn on her late 2000s jams.
“Pass me that.”
Posters hanging from one corner,
knocked from 3 a.m.'s “we should be quiet.”
Sharing hairbands, secrets, and spoons.
White cinder blocks begin to sway,
dancing in the shower together.
“He doesn’t deserve you.”
She sighs. Eye contact and a light smile.
If heaven opened up, the floors of our apartment
my Mother taught me how to make time
S T O P
a witchcraft, she told me, i would need to learn how to
wield with the palm of my hand wide open
bare rose skin etched with plum life lines
open to the ability of holding a moment forever
my hands cupping
dribbling down my wrist like peach juice
so smooth i can skip it like a stone on top of still water
so heavy i clench my fist not to drop it like a brick
i’ve been placing handfuls of memories into jars
on my bedside table for the days when
1. i am too tired to get out of bed
2. i am very lonely in a very full house
3. i cannot remember the last time i felt proud
they glow with the same sunshine that filled
my summer camp cabins
and they remind me how to fill my time.