Independence Day

These are my options. I don’t want them.

Wood smoke scents a summer breeze. Men stand around with hands wrapped around cold cans. Women chase children and set tables. Voices echo from open windows. These are my options. I don’t want them. Hidden in the shade of a weeping willow, words fall from my pen, unravelling onto the page. This is Independence Day.

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Juliette van der Molen

Written by

Writer/Poet. Intersectional Feminist & LGBTQIA. Poetry Editor: Mookychick. Author- Mother, May I? & Death Library: The Exquisite Corpse Collection

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