Invitation to Joy Inside a House Made Of Sorrow

Remember the year that grabbed us by our ankles

and pulled us down two months in? We both signed

a resignation letter to routine, spun a wheel that landed

on homebound. Ask me to a party where we lean into

each other and the moonlight from a balcony, and I will

tell you that sometimes the problem is that the person

you want to make love with is in a hotel room four exits

down, so you must dance until the forest notices you.

By which I mean, yes. By which I mean, if you open

the cabinets of my heart and find them full of empty

glasses, pour yourself and your glistening back in.


By Melissa Studdard & Kelli Russell Agodon

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