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Photo by Ronaldo de Oliveira
When all of the circuits and electricity and periphery
of the world are dead, when all that is left is
the cold ice of life coursing through her veins-
that’s when her window opens. The fire
that animated her, her family, her existence
has frozen solid, a lump deep in her stomach.
They were right; the world is flat. unmoving. barren.
The knife in her hand will only bear fruit
if she uses it to open her skin.
Life is shallow, most of the time.
It needs a reminder to wake up.
Hannah Rousselot is a queer DC-based poet. She has been writing poetry since she could hold a pencil and has always used poems as a way to get in touch with her emotions. She writes poetry about the wounds that are still open, but healing, since her childhood and the death of her first love. Her work has appeared in Voices and Visions magazine, Panoply zine, Postcard Poems and Prose, and Parentheses Magazine. In addition to writing poetry, Hannah Rousselot is also an elementary school teacher. She teaches a poetry unit every January, and nothing brings her more joy than seeing the amazing poems that children can create. You can follow her work at facebook.com/hmrpoetry.
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