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"Tongue-Tied Laces" by Margot Stillings



She laces her cherry Docs

and shuffles forward to knock

A book tucked under her arm

her heart ticking like a bomb

Other side of that door is a mystery

that will quickly become shared history

She rubs at the mascara under her eye

her eyes like stars dim in the winter sky

A token in her pocket from a time before lies

lies unwrapped by a time machine

Her brain overthinking every promise sanguinely


Not all stories have beginnings

Nor endings

Sometimes a middle is a killing

Of a past in an unlit cave

Even before they misbehaved

And yet they build a new order

They will be rooted in only what they foster

No longer feeling like imposters

in their own lives

no need for detectives

they unpack how they feel in luminous

spaces no need to be suspicious

because they become

fresh air

in broken lungs

and tongue-tied laces





Margot Stillings is a storyteller and cocktail napkin poet. She resembles a housecat most days: paws bare on hardwood floors and lounging in sunbeams.

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