Thank you

Written by: Zara Bosman

Inside out
like a backward bent umbrella,
dusty grey and textured in my slip-on dress
I hear
piles of books. Musty and scuffed. Lining her passageway. It moves me.

This is what I’m trying to say:
Thank you for yesterday. And the day before that. And all the days before that since we first became friends all those years ago.

This is what I’m trying to say:
With a strap running through the middle of my foot. Pleated like pine cone petals,
I hear

the most quiet place I know is underneath the water in a mountain pool.
This is what I’m trying to say:
Outside in.

Thank you for tomorrow. And the day before that. And all the days before that since we first became friends all those years ago.