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Saturday, April 25, 2015


by Joanna Schroeder

When we run out of water
we will drink tall glasses of stones
from the riverbeds.
We will brush our teeth and rinse

with only the stream of our own saliva,
the trickle of blood from our own gums.
We will wash our hair with wine,
clean our bodies with vinegar.
We will shower the azaleas with time,
all the second hands pulled
from antique watches, gathered in a pail
to pour down like our memory of rain.
We will survive on the notes
of desperate songs, the ones
we haven't heard in years,
conjuring old lovers ghosts
so parched as we are
so thirsty,
even for our own tears.

Joanna Schroeder is an ex-punk adult from Columbus, Ohio.