Verdant “If the world breaks I hope I will become a garden” - Meow Wolf, Santa Fe I wonder if the end of the world will be beautiful — begging, crumbling into mulberry midnights and shotgunned lives. I wonder if your hands will be the ones to find the dark pull of my chest emptying into the reeds, a secret baptism for motherless seedlings. I hope the small secrets of my body will grow like sunflowers from the ditches of my elbows. I hope this will be enough.
Golden Hour Your face is a study in light freckles glittering on the river of your chin. The shadows of flowers falling from the hibiscus sky stretch across wallpapered bedroom endings. I know these petals will lie there forever — such a treacly rot. Your tongue is a lesson in the composition of honey. Your body is a study of warmth, golden hours spent holding you in the kitchen without butter, the house without daffodils. Prisms of sunlight flicker across the sheets, your body melting as the day fades into my chest, waiting for another sunrise.
Whitney Hansen (she/they) is a Midwestern writer and teacher. Their work is published/forthcoming in Pink Plastic House, Olney Magazine, Variant Literature, and more. She has been nominated for Best of the Net. Twitter: @whitneyhansen_