Jul/Aug 2022  •   Poetry  •   Special Feature

Record Skip

by Megan Brown

Public Domain image

Record Skip

One day I'll stop writing
the same poems, over and over,
the images shaped like fire,
wreckage, lost faith and friends,
and love, I hold onto
these pieces, throwing sharp edges
at a target I can't see
in the hopes one might strike
the heart that still bleeds.
Just one might relay
that this girl inside of me is aching
for who I was, twice shattered,
the pieces I scattered in the process
of growing up.

But it all comes down to this,
burning rubber and rain of glass,
crashes I can't avoid.
Beside church pews and choirs
and a desire to believe,
even if it's just in me.

For now I am caught
in the same groove, repeated
refrain that clicks back
to the beginning just when it ends.