One poem by Arianna Monet

sometimes maggie rogers is the only thing that makes sense 

a year ago i had it all figured out:
a somedaydream flecked with mica.

rose quartz frogs.
raspberries & landlines.

now look – a closed door and the redwoods are burning.

i sing to my coffee plant.
i talk to the moon.

there are seventy-two swans in the park & they teach me all their dauntless.
a bluejay be way too loud in the dark and, y’know, i get it.

i start by counting the miracles.
strawberry leaves.

neon acrylic.
a ball of focaccia dough on the counter

unbaked cloud rising in a glass bowl.
my favorite peanut butter gets discontinued & finally i understand loss.

the bottles keep filling with dragonflies.
all the seesaws are out of order.

a sunbeam swallows the ocean. every monarch is sunk by the light.

Arianna Monet is a queer Black poet from eastern Massachusetts.  Arianna’s work can be found in Honey & Lime Literary Magazine, What Are Birds? Journal, and elsewhere. She likes unreasonably strong tea, hates waterproof eyeliner, and wants to send love letters to every whale on earth.

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