My chest is over-tight,
wound round and under
in pretzel knots
beneath the un-done day.
My posture wants a change:
fuller breaths are drawn
looking up. So breathe in
full. The air smells like —
nothing. But maybe everything. Maybe

it’s the gray, dying daisies on the table,
the dust atop the noisy clock,
the lived-in-ness of the room
its ticking fills
insisting upon my sense
gentle waftings of home: a scent
so comfortable, familiar, friendly
I almost miss
the overwhelming love of it all.

Tyler Rogness

Tyler Rogness

Tyler Rogness

Tyler Rogness is learning to live on purpose, and to sink into the small moments that fill a life. He loves deep words, old books, good stories, and his wonderful family who put up with his nonsense. His writing has appeared in Ekstasis Magazine, the Amethyst Review, The Habit Portfolio, and the Agape Review. More of his work can be found at

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