When the world opens its ears 

mugs are handed upside down 

on the loved sundress and gloves

that your mother once wore.

When the world opens its ears

rainbowed shelters give all 

countlessly opening you from

the inside of your heart.

When the world opens its ears

rings are fused onto bones 

where blood lines and lying

daughters receive medals.

When the world opens its ears

books aflame provide warmth to

guns and gear that

never say no to me.

When the world opens its ears

a seed planted in the organs

of my garden tastes like

cider and honey syrup.

When the world opens its ears

pills are crushed like sand

and dissolved into glitter

covered eyes smudged in the dark.

When the world opens its ears

a light bulb burns your voice

onto staccato notes

in the first phone call I received.

When the world opens its ears

I can’t find another home to pour

my trust into the dishes

served warm under wrinkled hands.

Abby Dobry writes mostly about the arts. Write to her at [email protected]