june in san francisco
i squatted, devoured
sour green kumquats
plucked from a slumping branch
three brothers walked into the sea
and one returned
their mussels, cleaved
washed up
scaly and intestinal
i promised sweet june
to stay
still
convenient
and fleshy
I fed on smoke and mirrors.
a suckling
sweet little animal
plucking
flies out of orbit
i sickened gently
into a rocking chair in the sun
i fell in love.
He let our tastes mingle with ash and
picked gravel from the soles of His feet He
wrote of stones
spoke of thighs and divinity
He played chess
and killed off stars with His wishing
He felt god.
then He felt schizophrenic
september stagnated
in puddle murk
mosquito larvae hatching
as a field of
fetal dandelions
bloomed beneath our
fingernails.
Edited by Jamie Chen.
LAUREN CALDWELL is a queer, 20-year-old poet from San Francisco, California. She attends Lewis and Clark College in Portland, majoring in English and rhetoric and media studies. Lauren explores, through her work, her struggles as a young person grappling with bipolar disorder. She hopes to use writing to promote introspection and healing for all.