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 abd61@pitt.edu
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