TACOMA
Hannah Louise Corbett
Tacoma: alone and stripped. I found her everyday, Tacoma. I loved her only. Where she left me be. Alone, I was known only unto her. The city herself, she held me, walking terraced streets. She rocked me and wrapped me in all her billowing grays and her cold silent blues. She lay down her green gullies and enraptured me with her trees. We were together on the shores of the rocky sound. My love, under her clouds, rested and bloomed, faraway from the muffled sun and all of the times that came or went. Together, we were the depths and the distances. She, surrounding me and I, holding her in my hands, breathing her stillness. All I could know was her. I became her; a flower in her garden, a feather upon her current, a drop of rain from her darkest storm. Would that I could cast myself to the bottom of her salty waters, and feel her wet stones beneath my bones.
Tacoma.
Sweet charity.
My destiny.
Hers.