by Bella Aase
in our bedroom, June, you lie still between
crosswords of lamplight and evening shadows
while I imagine a sharp knife in my hand
drawn across, down, or diagonal on my bare arm
one, you say you’re anxious, suddenly, for no reason
two, i’m with you, been anxious for days
i sit on the floor at your side and you smile at me
i search your eyes for an answer key
i reach for your bare arm, warm in my hand
it’s gonna be okay, you tell me, a statement
it’s gonna be okay, i repeat back, assured
are we lying to each other
or what if we’re wrong
is this one of those times
where deception is a loving act
can we cheat each other into another day
lie until we are kind to ourselves
until this young summer flies into
the moon instead of a bulb
says she wants to live
and means it
***
Bella Aase (she/they) is a recovering perfectionist with Bipolar II disorder. She is a graduate student in the MFA creative writing program at Hamline University and has a Substack called Wax and Sonder. Their work has appeared in Serotonin and This Was 2020. Bella lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota with her husband, John, who is also a writer.
Comentarios