Anastasia Jill
I was made of northern light gut,
the lonely prehensile of every halley comet.
No one ever told me an aura could die;
I thought I was embraced by forever.
I’m in trouble when my pockets swallow
Mercury and Venus, and I become a pebble
in the universe’s outsole.
I look like an entirely different person
with dark matter finding home around my neck.
God?
Teach me not to thrash
at my reflection.
***
Anastasia Jill is a queer poet and fiction writer living in the southern United States. She is a current editor for the Smaeralit Anthology. Her work has been published or is upcoming with Poets.org, Cleaver Magazine, FIVE:2:ONE, Ambit Magazine, Drunk Monkeys, Hawai’i Pacific Review, The Laurel Review: Fearsome Critters, and more.