For a long time
the thing I wanted most
was to be beautiful
but now I wish
to become myself.
I think I used to
maybe
believe
in resurrection
but now I think
I believe
in living
and its slow
discovery.

It is a Tuesday
evening in April.
Apropos of nothing
the neighborhood children
are shooting off fireworks
in the parking lot
of my apartment complex.
There is no notice
from the landlord
about the illegality of this.
I think we are all tiring
of legality.

It has been a long year,
this spring feels hard won,
in need of something to celebrate.
The fireworks burst
pink and green
in the small sky
still blue
and dripping
with humidity.
The first spring rain
is on the horizon.

The night is growing dark.
We are in the kitchen.
You are teaching me
to make tortillas.
We have them
in abundance,
flour haloing
on the mahogany table.
You pour oil in a pan,
fry the excess golden,
an anointing.

The chips taste
like salt and earth
when you place
one in my mouth
this becomes
what I know
of provision
of hands
I can trust
with my body
and all the ways
it unfolds.

About the author

Abby Bland (she/they) is an award-winning Kansas City-based writer and performer whose work has appeared in a variety of publications. Her touring one-person show “Godzilla’s Not a Dinosaur,” is about coming out as nonbinary and won Best of Venue at the KC Fringe. They’re on Instagram @applestoabby and you can read more of their work at abbyblandpoetry.com.

Photo by Jose Maria Garcia Garcia on Unsplash.