“I once smuggled vodka into church in a “Jesus saves” sports bottle.”
- Bree Van de Kamp
I walk home with the fire hydrants raining for me / at 1 A.M. I am all covered in moss / damp and / kept awake in slow drowning / I imagine the fist / full of promises I had every intention / of keeping / still / I am undone / on the walk home / with the moon laughing at me / as I panic when I see a car pass / wondering if it will be the thing to finally undo me / for real / excited / at the prospect of an overflowing body / disintegrating at the edges / saturated flesh giving way / cells bursting / body leaking / blurred endings / and the moon, she holds my water still / closer / I walk north / farther / father / lineage of drowning / yes / something like that / something I can write a poem out of / something I can dissolve in / lose the body / keep the miracle / no way to distill the silence / snow flurry / on the way home, I stop in the park / and pray / drunk / against the cliff’s edge.
Charlie Blodnieks (they/them) is a poet, educator, and former Floridian currently residing in New York City. They are the former Editor-in-Chief of Quarto Magazine and a third-year member of the Barnard College Slam Poetry Team. They have previously published work in Muzzle Magazine and 4×4. Largely due to their Pisces moon and mercury, they believe the revolution begins with kindness (and that kindness isn’t necessarily soft). They love their houseplant Francis so much they got a tattoo of her.
