Move Me Poetry
Published in

Move Me Poetry

Billowing Blue

A Short Prose Poem

Photo by Ansh Minchekar on Unsplash

I don't think my father was feeling like himself that day because although he wasn’t callous, he wasn’t especially affectionate; He was often the steel, wearied disciplinarian my mother weaponized. But that afternoon, as he stood in front of the billowing sheer blue curtains in the living room, I saw an unfamiliar softness in his eyes, and time suspended. When he spoke, his words cracked and broke as if they had to travel over gravel, as he recounted that time I had moved to Texas long ago and he had constantly wondered “where my Rachel was?” He cried, and I turned into stone.

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Rachel K. Gause

Rachel K. Gause

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If you surrendered to the air, you could ride it. ~Toni Morrison