Illustration by Jaye

Illustration by Jaye Elizabeth Johnson.


There’s another person in me
whose silhouette was formed
from all the times I’ve tried to thrust the thunder from my veins;

Another body made of static and flame,
lightly running the pads of its fingers
along the knots of my brain
and tapping on the tendons
tasked with
keeping my vibrating bones from floating away.

I can feel them moving,
flexing and
twisting to twang the chambers of my heart until
the shivers threaten to split and
peel my spine like
green sticks in a violent wind.

I feel you, I want to say,
to stop their stalwart flails,
I hear you raging.
I want to wrap our twin fractures in
gauze and ask,
Who are you?

But I’m afraid of hearing my own name.