Flood Season

My heart holds all of my firsts.
The first breath of life,
the first cry cracking out of my lungs.
It holds the rupture of a dam my parents tripwired,
so the flood has always won.

The guttural scream of you and sixteen,
a ruthless rise in your grip for the ripest fruit.
I was only trying to hold on.

To hold on to innocence like the sun prying
at time on the horizon just to catch a
glimpse of the moon.

My heart holds all of my firsts,
the shushed cries and soiled flesh
I did not pray or.
God crying in December’s fog
as you abandon me in winter’s thaw.

You are forgetful,
but my heart remembers all.

May Garner is an author and poet residing in rural Ohio. She has been writing for nearly fifteen years and has been sharing her writing online for over a decade. She is the author of two poetry collections, Withered Rising (2023) and Melancholic Muse (2025). Her work has appeared in Querencia Press, Cozy Ink Press, Arcana Poetry Press, Livina Press, Speckled Trout Review, among others. Find her work on Instagram (@crimson.hands).