poetry
“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.