Maddison is a non-binary alter ego of many other facets of an identity that may or may not exist in this world.
Blueberry bagel is her favorite food, she said
Blueberry bagel is her favorite food, she said
Tagged, spat, and ran.
For you, a perpetual siren spins,
words
folded.
The mountain, snow bellow, amidst, above.
She is also.
Slid down
together, the white is endless. Pitch has no limits.
A laugh.
The sofa, you, her, lay
together, absence of edges.
In the curves and humps and grooves,
your body shapeshifts itself.
There is no boundary.
A puzzle.
The football field,
oversized fiber-rich bright yellow T-shirt
attracts tiny black dots of bugs.
“Let it be ”
She shakes her head.
Sunshine, sunscreen, you always hated the pair.
A goal.
Rain, sky swap places, and clatter into.
Erosion, made steep.
Cones and rods fail to see.
You skimp on feelings, but she does not.
A stupor.
The curb, yellow lamp lights,
her eyes bleeding in the air.
She leans,
hands blend into your back, body melts in one.
Time steered away.
A smile.
A pine cone stops sweating,
you lay, wide, heat retreating.
She is awake
narrowly.
Longer gaps leak between words.
The computer shimmers with a video game.
A blank.
You cry tears too dry that can scratch her,
she laughs insanely, biting
your insecurity.
A California sun.
Dinner table.
She cries as the pork oil runs down her knuckles
briefly.
She asks why you write, for
stumble and fall, like yesterday ’ s coffee, gone sour.
A mistake.
She says these are queer memories, beautiful
sirens.
Lingering on a goodbye.
This time, you cannot make it in time to buy the blueberry bagel,
but even if you make it in time,
who ‘ s going to eat it? Counting the minutes until they close up,
you run up to the store,
and you believe you have arrived on time.