1.
he / she / they / I
will leave you crossing
the right bridge, when you’ve aged and satisfied
your waiting fate,
he / she / they / I
will drive this story to the edge of every cliff
& keep driving until you find the end of the
sun / soil / basin / bedroom ceiling
3.
She has a name you will only remember in this dream. Sand runs against your heel and the world tilts like a planar hourglass, and suddenly you’re falling into her side of the shore, whispering take me to your lighthouse and when she reaches for you, don’t linger,
because this sea never learns to forgive / but the rivers in hell do not have currents
7b.
It’s morning, and your mother is waiting for you behind the door. She opens it when you’re still on the sidewalk where the walkway intersects, standing an American Lawn away, a deer in your headlights (or the other way around?)
(or maybe this is a colonial American duel) / (or judge and defendant) / (or husband and wife)
10b.
Is it because of your parents? is the first thing he asks in that damn car. His eyes are on the road but it’s his voice that settles on the wrong edge of the knife. If he could look at you, it would only burn in your retina.
Based on your interpretation of 10a,
say yes / no / he’s not who he should be / you’re not who you should be
5a.
All the way across the world, your estranged uncle dies. He’s found a week later by police, rotting, his head slumped on the kitchen table. The flies have already sighted their harbor. The line of racked plates and fresh dust on the wood floor and the arranged sofa pillows and the dry heat—the AC was turned off—align as if performing the aftermath of an intention. Entropy, chaos theory, whatever name you put to it, can’t explain a death like this. You wonder if
he feels free / he regrets it / you’re allowed to miss him / at his destination, there’s a place and a person to love
10a.
He drives you home in silence and you’re left to pick hangnails on your bitten fingers. The pain is grounding and if you’re still bleeding then you must still be alive—so think of nothing but the blood blooming fractals on your tongue, familiar metallic, and wonder if your veins could hold nothing but liquid mercury, perhaps, or gold if you’re blessed enough to marry Midas.
7a.
It’s 10pm when you learn the cruelty of your own doorstep. Cemented gravel. The tiny rocks stick out and prick your flesh like an overgrown stubble. The porch light flickers, five months broken. The welcome mat is rough under your palms.
you can try the street / or beg for entry back home / or the forest two miles left / the neighbors
5b.
Is this the only way of escaping?
yes / no / you wouldn’t try anyway
7c.
She could’ve just left you cold. She could’ve retreated, shut the door in your face for the second time in twelve hours, but she’s standing there, wind billowing her silk nightgown like a white flag, calling, Come home. It’s frayed, yet contained somehow, swallowing the chambered echo of
I love you / I love you / I love you / I love you / I love you
4.
She will ask if you’ve ever done this before.
no, never / not with girls / like you, I prostitute myself to every body I cannot have (alt text: I am an antibiologist)
6.
Your parents find the note before you do. Stuffed, they said, in the side pocket of your backpack, but you imagine it kneeling, writhing in an unrelenting fist, begging to fulfill its only purpose. They ask you if you’re sick, if they must erase your scratched edges, beat you until your head turns right. Your mouth froths a lie:
don’t know her / I’m sorry / never never never never / I itch her memory off my skin everynight
11.
Chills Numbness Loss of appetite Wandering Disobedience Bad posture Laryngospasms
9.
He kisses you because you let him. You loosen your mouth enough to be mistaken for yearning, so you let him eat the secrets out of your unhinged jaw in the front seat of his car. The hand on your neck borders too close to affection and his stubble rubs lightly into your cheek on every other stroke, all his love pouring from one tongue to the other; you must’ve swallowed it wrong for it to settle in the bile climbing up your throat.
break apart / let him ingest it and realize / “you don’t want this.”
8.
They still love you.
true / false
12.
You lose to another boy. This one calls you good girl, slightly breathless and cut at the edge of praise where it leaks into mockery, and you can’t decide if you like it or not.
just tell him to shut up / fist the roots of his hair / imagine the ends growing through your fingers
2.
The first time, you are lucky: she holds your gaze and you are no longer permeable. There are two types of emptiness: one that is lonely, groping for feeling, apathetic desperation. The second kind is hunger, violent and brewing hot, and it wants something from you. Or you want something from her. Or she might want it from you;
let her unravel you / when you’re already half-tangled
1.
he / she / they / I
will leave you land-crossing
the right bridge, when you’ve satisfied
your waiting fate, to become and become
& keep becoming—