A Fresh Start
After Fleetwood Mac’s “Angel”
March released its final exhale
warm and wild through the clouds,
and I opened my black gauzy curtains
for the first time in months.
Sometimes the most beautiful things…
Keep passing me by
I thought
if the light can touch the dusty corners of my bedroom,
maybe I can become the light.
If I open the window
maybe the breeze will lift me out of bed.
I close my eyes softly
‘Til I become part of the wind
I’m convinced there’s nothing
as healing as
an old Fleetwood Mac vinyl and lilac nail polish—
both make me feel new inside,
both could make me cry on any given day.
It’s funny that you understood
I knew you would
And isn’t there something so honest about crying?
Something brutal and flowering in Stevie Nicks’ voice
that tears you up inside? Think palm trees in a
hurricane, bending but not breaking.
Never breaking.
Like a charmed hour and a haunted song
And the angel of my dreams
Brooke Tapia is a lesbian poet from Soldotna, Alaska. She is a first generation college student
(entirely fueled by rage and caffeine) pursuing a Bachelor's in English. Her work appears in
Homology Lit Issue 2 and UAA’s 2019 Understory Anthology. She tweets @sweetheartdyke.