Nausea
and vomit
and things I care about
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.
Fight or Flight
My little brain
thinks it can help,
Ruminate
I apologize in my mind,
endless intentional scenes,
then slip into fantasies of you
rubbing the base of my skull on a table.
Accounting
Putting everything that we don’t need to
prove, because it can’t be proven, because it can’t
be proven wrong, on the list of things
we’re free from,
Hunger, Thirst
Taught my epilepsy how to drive,
got my independent streak a little drunk on empowerment,
made a piece of art at 2am so decided god mustn’t hate me.
Started to leak, said, oh no, touched it, saw it wasn’t blood.
Looks like I’ve got inspiration that isn’t uterine.
Embrace
Celestial realms so blue, like a river
trickling, and I want to know where you are.
When you see this same sky, do you rush down
into the grass blades and let your mind cut
Open, Close
7 states in 9 years—my adulthood summed up
in moves that kept me a little busy
to build very much I could keep my
newly situated self busy with.
My college professor would say
that was only the start of a poem,
but I don’t think he’s very
tired.
My college professor would say
Glassy-Eyed
You say, Can we go home? And I want to laugh, Honey,
we are home—this love, this respite, refuge, relationship.
This normal of safety, this routine—the place
Eve
My baby may not remember his birth,
his first dip into consciousness,
first thought on existence—
no knowing or wondering…
Hi
Gonna write something down that sounds like a lie
and make it feel
so truthful,
Alphabet Ravine 