Page 107 - North Star Magazine 2022
P. 107
A LIST OF THINGS THAT REMIND MY BOYFRIEND OF ME
(AS DICTATED DRUNK AT 3 AM)
Flannels with the sleeves rolled up Heads up pennies in a parking lot Succulents struggling to thrive Black ink, soft blurs
Metal rings through tender flesh Ripped jeans, knees showing Laughs like sunshine in December The smell of fresh cut grass
that I always point out Pale skin like snow but
Hair every color of the rainbow Gentle kisses that feel like home Rage at the injustice around me Chipped nails I am too busy to paint Eyes that change with the shifting light Hands worn from writing
Strong arms that hold you when you cannot hold yourself
Deep sleep where I am most at peace Overgrown gardens bursting with blooms Cups shaped like cows for 50 cents Garden gnomes with dumb names like Gned A billion stars I admire
