Poem Of The Day: Traveling Indoors

How we are still going places in our minds as well as remembering where we’ve been. This is how we’re traveling indoors.

london castle
And it starts with an ending.

Honeydew melons no longer ivy-ing shelves
We can’t see each other smiling
I cut rose petals and tape them on a page to create meaning
but if your mouth is a mask
and the fruit is poison
than this is more than a virus.

This is craving
stiletto nights before silver dollar pancake Sundays
This is lust,
so much lust I am falling
for every piece of salt thrown over my shoulder
This is sugar-talking lonely, saying
“come here, honey, I accept your roots and color
them in thunderclouds & all”

Even fruit flies have jazz hands and I am swaying
with continents, language so whisked
I am the Atlantic&Pacific’s adopted daughter

I am sweet ache. London clotted cream.
Florence steps caught in a cracked dream—
an obvious nightmare or that time I waltzed
in a cantina in Barcelona I am cowboy boots
in Nicaragua and how lose is one letter off from love.

I replay saying hi to the foreign boys in the ferris wheel
and we were spinning, oh we were spinning and
I wanted one of their shoes to pop off at the top
and land on my head at the bottom
as if I was a runway,
I mean runaway,
as if I was solid ground rotating
a welcome mat for ventured feet
out of trajectory, hugging
this new muddy accent

Amanda Dettmann


Amanda is an avid traveler who calls Maine her home, but her favorite places include Amsterdam's Christmas markets and Shakespeare's Globe in London. She is passionate about poetry, theatre, and teaching writing to kids and adults with disabilities. She thinks the best part of traveling is hearing strangers' incredible stories. Her ultimate mission? To find the tastiest cappuccino in the world.

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