Dear Francesca,

Today was
     the smell of rain, the smell of earth re-emerging
        wind tearing through leaves

    darkness still dividing the windows
        while my bedtime approaches

    Polliwog asleep on the bed,
      her stomach rising and falling in furry waves

        thinned out arms, my pelvis a solid ache

    sounds of violins coming from the TV in the living room
        a show on PBS talking about medicine and music,
    the key being passion and focus
      passion and focus
    I'm missing a key to open this rusted lock

Yours,
Hannah Iona