Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Alyssa Trivett


We sat at the round table
in afternoon dust
as the revolving doors
roller skated in frigid breeze
and our froggy throats
talked about the weather
and how your treatment went.
And we sat with folded hands
as they delivered our food,
while tallying scents from coffee cups
climbing our nostrils.
And now it’s just a memory.
As is every other line scrawled
on a note, left to post-it-note bits
in unwashed jeans, somewhere.


Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. She chirps down coffee while scrawling lines on the back of gas station receipts. Her work has recently appeared at In Between Hangovers, Apricity Magazine and The Rye Whiskey Review.


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