Virginia, 1995
— Brianna Albers
So it is you & a boy in a bar.
One of you is a god, or a martyr,
or maybe you’re both a reflection
& this is akin to chrysalis. You have
to understand: This is not the first
time. Causality, balanced, knife-
point. You will never be here again.
It is you & a boy in a bar & something
cracks through: half-formed, mewling.
Inevitability. This, too, a lesson.
You are seeking something mythical.
A way to cheat death.
A gun to the head.
You are a cultivation of jagged
stigmata. The night blurs honey-
wine. It is you & a boy in a bar
& he is never what you want him
to be. Only she can give you that.
The boy in the bar is a prelude.
You are nothing more than transient.
Read more from Issue No. 7 or share on Twitter.