202: A Broken Cycle

The signs are all off.

I can't read them anymore.

A pressure here, a dull ache there

used to tell me

the time of the month. A downpour,

a flood, then quiet draught as all slept

until the clouds parted to start the process anew.

Now the ache comes too late, not in time

to warn of the downpour

that drowns the shores and fields. The tunnels. The gardens.

Filled and flooded and ripped apart

and when the clouds part they part too soon. Too soon

the sun beats down, harsh and white, and thaws

time itself until all the signs are gone.

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Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

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Publisher's note: All poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been viewed and commented on by our editors. Ultimately, however, we believe that it is the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions made by the editors, and therefore take no responsibility for the final product.