“P I N E” by m i c c a @ Beach 81st, Far Rockaway
I put my arms around the dry branches, sunk my face between the needles. I remembered holding you like this before you left. I remembered when we did this without thinking.
I put my arms around the dry branches, sunk my face between the needles. I remembered holding you like this before you left. I remembered when we did this without thinking.
I’m interested in setting myself as big a challenge as I can when I’m writing, saying to myself, “How can I love you?”
What is the body if not your closest, most concrete tie to blood lineage? It’s a mirror, a translation, a vessel for parallels and repetition across oceans and decades.
“I aim to be a balance between a healer, a dictator, and an anarchist” – Sophia Cleary
Paper. A tongue? A face? Hands, elbows, emerging body parts. Two bodies. Questions. Who are they to each other? Will they ever come out from behind the semi-translucent wall? Conceal and reveal. Discovery. Peekaboo, peep show, peeling back wrapping paper; pulling the curtain open in a stranger’s house to see a familiar smile.