1.
since the artichoke bloomed / since i was shocked
out of my foot bones / since it rained / since sun streamed
through the prisms again / since yesterday’s nap with
the maple / since trumpet guy played in my driveway &
a girl’s shoulder oozed from non-lethal munitions & i gave
away every cold la croix in the fridge to protester cheers
viva la revolución / not since the ash starting falling again
since the wind growled over the dinnerplate dahlia / since
i accidentally sprayed myself full-tilt with the hose / i haven’t
since the fire caught / not since that first hug in months
2.
when it’s been this long & a dam breaks / do you too
wonder is this pain or pleasure? / if i were trying
to make a friend feel better i would say you are good
despite this gnawing pressure to be supernatural / here
have a recipe to laugh or cry or feel or write / get semi-alone
& settle in the dark / exalted & also kneeling to yourself
usually it is enough to say one basic truth out loud / i am
a person sitting on a floor / in a body i work so hard
to know / in a space i have curated to call home
eventually / it all lets go
Ash Good
Ash Good is a queer poet, activist, designer, curator and editor. Her most recent book is We Are Not Ready for What We Are (First Matter Press 2019) Ash’s poems also appear in The Timberline Review and High Priestesses of Poetry anthologies. They live in Portland, Oregon.
Listen to Ash reading I haven’t (1:48)
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