Cecilia Durban
Earthbound
“Since finishing a glass of icy lemon water after an accidental nap, one whereupon I woke and was unsure if seven o’clock was ante or post meridiem, I have been craving the sensation of lying face-down on a dusty gravel road to get closer to the ground. I want to feel the weight of the chalk clinging to my eyelid oil, the grit under my nails, the scratched itches of my callouses. I want the pebbles to massage worry from my temples, jaw, and forehead.
“My psychic told me I’m drowning—of this, I feel vaguely aware—so naturally I also want to lick the mud off the bricks around the flower bed and plunge my fingers so deep into the garden topsoil that pebbles of perlite lodge in the webbing of my fingers. I want to hold them there like pearls. I want to keep them safe. Nothing else will satiate this. ‘If you pack the dirt too tight, water can’t get in. If too loose, it will flood.’ That is what she said.
“I iron my white shirt and button it up. I compose tiny lists on heart-shaped paper and fold them into smaller half-hearts and hide them in the breast pocket. I step off the stoop and realize I’ve ignored my chores in thought of you. So often with you I’ve been perfectly happy. I send you this drunk in thirst,” I write after a comma after [your name] next to a scrawled drooling dog.
I fold it in half. I step outside.
Cecilia Durbin
Cecilia Durbin is a proud Kentuckian, writer, and musician. Her work has appeared in Appalachian Review, Screen Door Review, and Shale. She currently serves as managing editor and book designer for Miracle Monocle at the University of Louisville where she also teaches English. Find her at ceciliadurbin.com