Hilary King
Always In My Pockets
Envy slept in this morning, and I let her.
I walk through our apartment, drinking
peppermint tea, the bright scent
filling the high ceilings of our small rooms.
Later, over wine and take-out, I’ll tell
Envy everything. Wait–
Maybe I’ll cook. Crepes,
because when I’m not jealous, I’m French.
Or British and brainy or still American,
but younger, taller, blonder, not
bogged down, in my pockets a stone
for everything I want but lack.
Originally from the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia, Hilary King is a poet now living in the San Francisco Bay Area of California. Her poems have appeared in Ploughshares, TAB, Salamander, Belletrist, Fourth River, and other publications. Her book Stitched on Me was published by Riot in Your Throat Press in 2024. She loves hiking, travel, and ribbon.