Well, I am good for many things. At times,
when I’m bumped into I relax up to
the edges of my bubble, so the next
time that soul needs some human touch to ground
Author: Alphabet Ravine
Lydia Rae Bush (she/her) is a poet exploring themes of embodiment and social-emotional development. Her work is Best of the Net nominated and can be found in publications such as Corporeal, Querencia Press, and Bleating Thing. Her chapbook Free Bleeding is out now with dogleech books.
on again off again first
isn’t there something comforting
about everything we ever wanted,
unsure if the high was betrayed or best conveyed
by the crash—
Shrapnel
When you say you did a thing,
and you’re scared you did the wrong thing,
or did the right one wrong,
Measuring Cup
Left, right, fingers and toes,
climbing up through kitchen drawer
handles— just the daily grind
when you’re only four—
helping bake by eating the quarter
cup of flour given to you, helping
yourself to the dish of butter,
sticky-fingered, when they turn their
Redpoint
He asked me where I was planning to go
to accomplish the climbing route.
He beamed, called me sweetly simple.
I’d snapped at him, “Up.”
Saved Reel
The baby lemur’s back already
lies against his elder’s stomach,
but he gives a light tug
at their sensitive face,
Misunderstand
I’m tired of passing people the ball
and watching them place it in their court,
hyacinth
hips, heel, shoulder blades, and crown
for the tree bark
Safe
I regress through feelings of my girlhood, like a
woman healing. My shame hadn’t felt dirty
in so long, but my new dance moves mimic
clawing at my face, and I’m finally saving for the
teddy bear the house fire took away. Old raging
Force of Nature
As the wind whittles my bark,
carves my trunk,
Alphabet Ravine 