Jenna Hren

Feels like a baptism with cherry blossom wine

Mushrooms on pasta shared with drunk neighbors

Feels like wind against my best friend’s hair

Or finding an old lighter engraved by my ancestors

Feels like laughing without walls

Flowers picked for an ex lover

Creeks forming from the downpour

And matting down the long grass

Feels like sleeping in my elementary school gym

With my great grandmother’s pictures taped to the wall

Feels like the black hills are fortifying across my chest

Feels like all the melancholia of youth is drowned

And the superb reflections found in puddles are paintings

Feels like all of time folds in on itself

Just to get me there