Natalie Marino

Winter Jar

I know I should restart
the Effexor because today
is worse than yesterday,

because today the sky
is a dull shawl
in a black and white
photograph

and I can’t remember
the rise of red balloons.

My brain is slow as honey
in a winter jar. I hear
the children’s faraway
voices gray as sea water,

while I stare at a blank
wall and long for sleep
like a worn shoe.

The afternoon’s window
is a loud star.

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Natalie Marino is a poet and physician. Her work appears in Bitter Oleander, EcoTheo Review, Kissing Dynamite Poetry, Leon Literary Review, Midway Journal, Moria Online, Oyez Review, Shelia-Na-Gig online and elsewhere. She was named a finalist in Sweet Lit’s 2021 poetry contest. Her micro-chapbook, Attachment Theory, was published by Ghost City Press in June 2021. She lives in California.