Sunday Afternoons by Gail Calimaran

Must every thought I have be of you?

 

Water, and

                                                                                                a bean-shaped pool

                                 flamingos

                                                                           “waterlogged”

                     kisses –

                                                                the taste of sunscreen

 

Prayers, and

                                                                                                           kneeling and you

                                 are sin (but so am I)

                                                                                                                                for what I have done

                                                                                                                     and what I have failed to do

           thighs pressed together on a church pew

                                                     like it’ll stop me from thinking of you and your

                                 hands                                           clasped together

                                                                I’m faltering.

 

I want to feel guilty but can’t

                                 repent for the God-given gift of

                                            loving you.

                                                                                                                                 Even like this:

                             parked in a church lot on a Sunday afternoon.

 


Gail Calimaran is a University of Pennsylvania freshman. Her work has previously been published in the Overachiever Magazine, the WEIGHT Journal, Lunch Ticket, and LEVITATE. In her free time, she crochets while listening to Jane Austen audiobooks, consumes nearly-lethal amounts of caffeine, and dances alone to ABBA in her room.

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