Andi Leigh Writes

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Glassmith

on July 15, 2022

A cut hand on glass.

Stinging shoots through untrained palm.

Blood stops through practice.

Checker Piece

There is a checker piece Lost on a chessboard, Playing a game it'll Never properly win, But it refuses to concede With confidence That it'll remain there Amongst the kings that Pertain to the goings-on Of the board.

The Mess

There is legitimacy In our stolen time. We give our days to love, To wake up every morning With resistance to the Imminent despair that aims To leech off of our creativity. I see the love for freedom And the longing for taking Back what is ours—forever. Even after we are long gone, The mess we leave behind May be worth displaying.

Getting to Know the Strangers

When people connect through stories, Sharing waves—ups and downs— Getting to know the strangers behind The faces we see every single day— There is far more power in numbers When you dig under small talk and The generic truth-blocking formalities.

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