Rainbows bounce around the closet
refracting light against my spine.
When I crack my neck I think of you.
I built a bridge out of those yardsticks of bubble gum
walked across it in sensible shoes to find you again.
You were there, waiting, in every color.
Your voice was the light bending
into a thousand shades of promises.
Neosporin and sudafed have kept me alive long enough
to know that when cuts heal they still leave a scar,
skin that has thickened and pulled taut.
Faceless, I reached my hands out to you.
Is there nothing in this world I can offer
to entice you back? A lantern hops on
one leg into the night.
Catherine Garbinsky is a writer living in Northern California. She is the author of two chapbooks: All Spells Are Strong Here (Ghost City Press, 2018) and Even Curses End (Animal Heart Press 2019). Her work has been featured or is forthcoming in Rag Queen Periodical, Flypaper Magazine, Coffin Bell Journal, and others.