SEPTEMBER

BEE Lb

the heat holding a certain late intrigue, clinging
both to the skin and the year. nothing yet to adjust to.
a clearing of the mind, if not the sky. a strip of film
clicking into place. the dial winding, lining the film for the next shot—
wasted. wrong focus. distant lens. ignored settings. strained
boundaries. shattered futures. the world’s massive shoulders shrugging
disaster expected and unnamed. a body, two, three, more left behind.
the season of change started early. season of doubt confirmed unending.

From the author: This poem was written on the Macomb Orchard Trail, in Shelby Township, where I live.

BEE LB is an array of letters, bound to impulse; a writer creating delicate connections. they have called any number of places home; currently, a single yellow wall in Michigan. their portfolio can be found at twinbrights.carrd.co and they can be found on Instagram @twinbrights.

Find this piece on page 5 of Issue No. 2.