an imagined empty room. I am
surprised in a white dress, beckoning

you. materialize next to me, all at once
we’re in a pew, watching the organist
you look at me

with misty eyes. your weather implores me
to stay. so I do stay. I’ll do anything
to stay here with you curled up
in the warm rosewood

this spearheaded guilt. one half rumbles
deep down in the blackness of my abdomen.
it leads me about its darkness.
I drop a pebble below to hear its echo,

the remainder cascades—

an indebtedness to memory,
the one I once was,
the one I am creating,
the light between the leaves,
the world showing up for me,
the life that I choose,


Bridget Boylan is a poet – musician living and working in Philadelphia. Her work has appeared in Metatron, The Squawk Back, Bottlecap Press, Letters to Barnacle, and elsewhere. Her first EP and chapbook are set to release in early spring. She posts photos on instagram and occasionally updates her wordpress. You can listen to some of her music on soundcloud.