Shownotes
Goodnight, Yesterday
Nichole Johnson
I thought
My heart might die loudly–
Thunder cracking,
Lightening
Grinding stone to sand.
But–
It is quiet.
It withers
In my ribcage,
Like a heavy fog–
The last breath
Of midnight
Softly tiptoeing
Towards dawn.
More from Nichole Johnson ↓
Mentioned in this episode:
Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only
Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice.
We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.
#WriteAfterOPO