when we cook breakfast together, i forget that i’m supposed to be sad
cheeks stuffed with rice and eggs
plastic masks long laid out to be recycled
the smile you give me is a moon made
from a sugar cookie nibbling the edges
of the constellations we’ve been sowing
into our garden for years now
when we wash the dishes and head out
to water our blue daisies and bluebirds
i map the colors pooling within my vision
like a song like the slow leak of ice cream:
another year of good crops
tomorrow’s a forest of images:
polaroids dangling from their branches
climbing up and up the staircase lined
with vcrs analog timeline where
we’re eternal textured like grits
sugared over and honeyed we keep the dust
from spreading too far this is a kind of love
that sets in the bones and heats the entire body
thermal energy rising like stir fry smoke
garlic pepper chili under the tongue
there’s a reason the cold has no home here
my love for you simmers:
broth seeping out of chicken bones
waiting for potatoes and carrots and leeks
savory steam curls away from our skin
rising like morning dew setting like names
rubbed into drying concrete stuck like animal
stickers on our pcs when my heart pops open
from a bad dream you’re not startled by the fear
pouring from my eyes like spoiled m&m’s minis
you gather me into your arms and whisper our to-do-list
against my eyelids the bad dream evaporates
you open the window to let out the smoke
losing time/life lived through reruns
while listening to “cheap vacations” by tobi lou
blue window my reliable reminder of sky
i stick my head through your frame to hear the streets better
glittering with sunlight i miss i’m full of missing
the summer’s gone the holidays are almost gone but you’re still
blue and at least all the flowers haven’t died in my hands
i haven’t left the apartment in several days
i woke up today and thought it was still tuesday—
it’s thursday and this is the second time i’ve lost time
days adding up and suddenly subtracting
traveling my body forwards leaving my mourning/mornings behind
huh? it’s already trash day? i wonder if i’ll get
to see my neighbors this time i haven’t gotten
to say hi to them in a long time i wonder if they know it’s thursday
i put on my favorite sneakers to go to rite aids
peek through the isles for faces that aren’t here they’re
quarantining with their pods across the city and i miss them
i stand in a line full of human beings holding dove soap doritos shaving cream
normal small groceries normal durags scarves leggings jackets but i can’t
see anyone’s faces
i felt the cold of my ice cream eating a bruise into my forearm
outside it’s december but today it’s 65 degrees and sweat is seeping into the neck of my hoodie
i left rite aids feeling accomplished and needy and very spacey
i go to rite aids to get lost in the snack aisle pretend i’m having a sleepover with all my friends
when i get home i hear a click from somewhere and relief i remember is only temporary
tomorrow i’ll wake up and put on the same worn pajamas
tomorrow i’ll rewind the video and pretend it’s a new episode
tomorrow i’ll text my friends and look on twitter jump to lunch because i skipped breakfast
try to remember what a breeze against my cheeks feel like
later tonight i’ll press my face against the glass and mourn my inability to hold
hands with my beloveds
later tonight i’ll draw the covers over my head and hope i don’t dream
when the moon sets i’ll mouth
at the suggestion of morning filtering through the leaves
and try again
A recent graduate from Temple University, Dynas Johnson was the vice president and an editor for SONKU, a university-founded organization for BIPOC creatives. She has poems published in Sooth Swarm Journal, Rogue Agent, Vagabond City Lit, Memoir Mixtapes, and others. Find her at https://dynasjohnson.wixsite.com/dynasthepoet or on Twitter @Dynasthepoet.