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When I ask if the letter found you first,
Tell me about the day you wanted more,
How you did not look away, but burst.
Say the flowers did not come too soon for
You, seeds taking root in your dirt freckles,
Scattered constellations sprung from joy,
Say how the growing pains seem to sparkle,
And the poems are harder to employ,
When you ask what my letter holds for you,
I say there are easier things to hold
Than my gardens, my hands, for you.
I can only offer what I mould,
I only wish for neater handwriting,
And the nerve to confess to loving you.
A Connecticut native, Bailey Quinn adores the extraordinary. She has been published in APIARY Magazine (Oct 2021) and The Villanovan (Mar 2021-present). Quinn’s art was featured in Villanova University’s Ellipsis Magazine (May 2021), and in the MoCA Teens exhibition by The Geffen Contemporary at MOCA (Los Angeles) this past spring.