Pollen Count by Danielle Marie Cahill
Pollen Count
Danielle Marie Cahill
This poem first appeared in The Quarter(ly).
My computer tells me the weather
There is a high pollen count today
As if that matters deeply to someone
Imprisoned in a glass tower
At night, my daughter asks if I saw the rain
She mimics the pattering noise with her
Fingers over the mound of the duvet
I pretend I did.
The she reminds me how in February
We stuck out our tongues to feel snowflakes
Falling–so gentle and so cold
We both catch imaginary wisps for a while
I tell her that I love the rain
Tomorrow, I must go outside to feel the drops
On my face–not…
The skinny
The skinny isn't ready yet — notes appear once the transcript is processed.