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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

& there’s really no math to it,

        just the sticky patches beneath my eyes

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

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

i always think.) this will never happen again

        because i’m different. just turn the dial

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

        something subtly drastic. sappho

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

        (tell me how you survived) cleo

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

        but the math is adding up now & in

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

        had such an egregious thought, like the aftermath

i wanted to fly across the ocean or inhale the moon

        to always keep it inside. i’ll forget,

unless of course it clings to my mind

        & makes my fingers move erratically (pitterpatter

taptap) until they find home on a keyboard one night