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Sunday Afternoons by Gail Calimaran


 

Must every thought I have be of you? Water, and a bean-shaped pool flamingos “waterlogged” kisses – the taste of sunscreen Prayers, and kneeling and you are sin (but so am I) for what I have done and what I have failed to do thighs pressed together on a church pew like it’ll stop me from thinking of you and your hands clasped together I’m faltering. I want to feel guilty but can’t repent for the God-given gift of loving you. Even like this: parked in a church lot on a Sunday afternoon.


 

Gail Calimaran is a University of Pennsylvania freshman. Her work has previously been published in the Overachiever Magazine, the WEIGHT Journal, Lunch Ticket, and LEVITATE. In her free time, she crochets while listening to Jane Austen audiobooks, consumes nearly-lethal amounts of caffeine, and dances alone to ABBA in her room.

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