Photo courtesy of Molly Lichten

Always put on lipstick,
even if you don’t leave the house.
Donate your spare change
to a homeless woman
with a dog.

Have fries with that shake.
Delete your Facebook. Splurge
in the grocery store. Leave
a tip at the diner.

Always wear clean underwear
for the paramedics in case a driver
smashes you into the street,
piñata style.

Forget last July when your head was hung
somewhere in the city, smoking
Newports out a window.

Forget wasting your nights.
Even though you woke in the afternoon,
you learned more in the bird hours
than some people do
over the course of college degrees.
Some people can’t imagine
the textbooks you’ve experienced.

Stop collaging the sidewalks
with cracks you’ve invented.
You are the eastbound sunset,
the snapshot of a tsunami.

Don’t hold onto the worst days
when there are colours
in the sky yet to be defined.
Forget the boy who called you
temporary. Forget
the folds around his eyes
when he winked at you.
Don’t feel lonely
because he doesn’t
call you baby anymore.

You are not a baby,
you are a grown-ass adult. Capable
of assembling IKEA furniture.
You know how to fold a fitted sheet.

you wash your dishes
by hand.




Kate Foley is a young writer living in Pennsylvania. Her work has been featured in Words Dance, Yellow Chair Review, The Legendary, Voicemail Poems, and more. Her first collection, The Bird Hours, will be released in 2017 by Where Are You Press. She’s here to help however possible. You can find more of her poetry at

Molly Lichten is a young, talented photographer. View more of her work on Flickr and Facebook, or visit her website, Molly Lichten Photography.

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