i haven’t


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



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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