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1 poem
by
Natasha Bredle

Natasha Bredle is perpetually confused. Her musings can be found in Full House Lit, Anti-Heroin Chic, and Trouvaille Review, to name a few.

In the Aftermath I Want to Change My Name

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& there’s really no math to it,

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        just the sticky patches beneath my eyes

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where the tears have already turned to fog & juice stains.

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        i’m new now, i think (which is what

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i always think.) this will never happen again

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        because i’m different. just turn the dial

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on felix the inside-out cube & get to your feet.

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        something subtly drastic. sappho

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(do kids still know about her these days?) artemisia

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        (tell me how you survived) cleo

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(the snake is coming i feel it on my wrist)

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        but the math is adding up now & in

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a few hours i’ll be fine (fine.) i’ll forget i ever

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        had such an egregious thought, like the aftermath

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i wanted to fly across the ocean or inhale the moon

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        to always keep it inside. i’ll forget,

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unless of course it clings to my mind

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        & makes my fingers move erratically (pitterpatter

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taptap) until they find home on a keyboard one night

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