Dispossession by Danielle Hagerty

Sometimes,
I catch a glimpse of it
shadowed in a wrinkle of my mother’s aging face
And sometimes I smell it,
in solidifying moonlight of sugary grass and cool soft air
And sometimes I feel it, crawling lightly up my leg while I am waiting
And I hear it, sometimes, too — a sweet distant music of vanishing wind
And it tastes like the sinking sun.
But when I try to hold it,
it only laughs as it blows, twirling past my somber face
and through my pale, casting fingers
then whispering,
Maybe tomorrow”-

 

 

 

 

Danielle Hagerty lives in Philadelphia with her identical twin sister whom she loves very much. She graduated from Temple University with a degree in English and currently works at the Chamber of Commerce for Greater Philadelphia. Danielle is obsessed with bread, dogs, and speaking French.

Germ Magazine guest author
… is a contributing guest author for Germ, which means the following criteria (and then some) have been met: possessor of a fresh, original voice; creator of fresh, original content; genius storyteller; superlative speller; fantastic dancer; expert joke teller; handy with a toolbox; brilliant at parties; loves us as much as we love them.

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