[222 words]
listen i was slower once full of syrup & warnings I used to believe in build-up sent my secrets by mail left room for longing in the creases then the wands came eight of them sleepless each with one eye open they tore through the black sky one of them blinked at me then kept going there was no thunder just light then more light then a voice in the mountains saying you’re already behind i drank from the wrong river to try to keep up now i carry a little bird in my mouth it chirps at every choice i make says flirt faster says don’t confuse silliness for safety the landscape beneath them was pink like fresh bruising the mountains had been shaved clean by someone in a hurry the trees looked like matches the water an afterthought i tried to make a wish but my teeth buzzed from the speed of it all i tried to ask the white hand in the sky if it meant to bless me or catch me it didn't answer just showed me its palm just opened its eye wider once i thought momentum meant progress now i think it just means you’ve been flung i keep waking up mid-flight petals falling behind me no map just the chirp of yes where no should be
Caiti Quatmann (she/they) is a disabled and queer writer residing in St. Louis. She is the author of three poetry collections and Editor-in-Chief for HNDL Mag. Her work is forthcoming or appearing in McSweeney’s, Rattle, Neologism Poetry Journal, North Dakota Review, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, Thread, and others. Find her on social media @CaitiTalks.
