I didn’t know her name 
she ran her sentences to 
starvation
and gassed out 
smiled, teeth locked 
zipper strength 
she told me to 
try a new holiday drink post-season
and walked me down Secessionville road 
capped and spilling over with 
belligerent drunk heat 
tickled by the gray tresses of 
spanish moss

and I sat on the dollar I had 
my face bulldozed with makeup
her marlboros cycling from box 
to respirator 
to sidewalk 

the bay winds 
lapped up her gray crumbs
as they trickled into the spaces between the 
warped planks weaved into the frame 
of the bench 

there 
where the marsh had drowned 
car accidents 
and the sirens that followed 
in the cry of its insects 
as oil bled into the asphalt creek and caught fire

Writers Note

Inspired by a coworker of mine, who I met after moving to South Carolina, struggling with asthma amid the onslaught of covid, mask mandates and the financial cliffside placed at the boundary of poverty and homelessness in capitalist society. Natural issues stand adjacent to social issues. I did my best to capture some of the feelings, but her story is ultimately her own. – Emi