The Drain Remembers by Kendall Stilwell
The Drain Remembers
by Kendall Stilwell
I am a mirror that swallowed the sky.
Dragonflies sketch blueprints on my surface,
frogs drop their bass notes into my throat,
and cattails lean in, like gossiping neighbors.
Some mornings, I wake wearing fog
like an old wool coat left on the line.
Other days, I glitter sharp as broken glass
to remind the city I am still alive.
Children skip stones across my pulse,
and each ripple is a memory I keep:
lightning storms, herons lifting,
the shadow of a bicycle wheel
pausing just long enough to listen.
Do not call me “drain” as if I were hollow,
I am full. I carry the stories of rain,
of soil, of roots that thirst in secret.
I am water, moving quietly,
holding the world together
one ripple at a time.
Kendall Stilwell is a student at Michigan State University with a strong interest in veterinary medicine. She is actively involved in the animal science program and has a deep passion for working with animals. In her free time, she enjoys being outdoors, reading, and writing, using inspiration from her love for both nature and animals.