TO THE EX-FRIEND // TO SOMEONE // A PRAYER
By Laurel Reynolds
I don’t think I believe in a god, but in the last four years,
I have prayed three times. Twice for your family.
I swear your bed was Holy.
Covers consumed us & sifted sins away.
Now, I turn my grey pillow black & try not to blame the
linens, or you, or the good memories
that are starting to rot. I whisper your name &
hope it lands somewhere soft. Sometimes, it tastes
like a curse. I wonder where you let my name
fall.
Remember when we watched bubbles fall in ugly sweaters &
sang Hallelujah in harmony as our tears washed away into
soapy suds? I tried singing hallelujah yesterday & every
note fell flat, felt dirty, tasted wrong.
This was more than a minor fall. Everything between us is
cold & broken. Our faith in each other was strong,
but we needed proof. I still haven’t forgiven
either of us for breaking the vow of forever. I miss you.
Even though I haven’t forgiven you.
I miss you.
When we were friends, you showed me the
world through a kaleidoscope. Now, even stained glass is
dull. I smudge my glasses & pretend I haven’t been
lonely & longing for months. But I can’t
keep returning to cracked pews. Won’t splinter myself
to make you bigger. I don’t think I believe in a god,
but this is a prayer to someone. To be able to whisper your name &
hope it lands somewhere soft. To not pick it up.
SPLIT SKIES AND LAVENDER
By Laurel Reynolds
After Kaveh Akbar
again I’ve been too quiet terrified to say the wrong thing you reach down my throat and I am pretending everything is okay that this body is not drowning that I am not crawling between bones they ask me what happened who bit down and swallowed and spit me out I give them a bent broken clavicle a fallen out fang I watch the sky
and sun melt into the horizon know I will not be safe again desire only kills morals and I am drowning in split skies and blood drowning with a thumb on my windpipe and I tell them the air has never tasted so good when did they pull you out of the night bathe you in golden sunlight and say go when did prey become predator and why was I your choice I try to push all of you away but my femur is still split tongue still cut out and I tell them the air has never tasted so good I am fine compared to others I am a victim statement that has never been to court an unused rape kit at the hospital and no one will revictimize me if I don’t call it assault you can’t hunt me again no dissection of body and trauma can happen again when people reach for me I don’t know how to hold on every hand a rope that can confine me too much every hand too heavy on the spine too heavy on the waist I’m afraid if they clear the airway I won’t know who’s breathing you or me it will always be you I’d rather die drown I am fine choking on blood because it is my blood I pretend you’ve forgotten the taste of me pretend I taste of lavender not copper and cortisol that I have never tasted so good I tell them you wouldn’t recognize me but I know you I have grown fangs
too I don’t want to know the taste of your blood
Laurel Reynolds is a youth poet from Arden Hills, Minnesota. Her work often explores queerness, mental health, trauma, and relationships. Her main goals with poetry are to write poems that would have helped her younger self and to write poems people can see some version of themselves in. Laurel has competed in the Be Heard Slam series since 2017, advancing to semifinals twice and advancing past finals once. She represented Minnesota on the Be Heard 19 cohort at Brave New Voices in 2019. Laurel currently attends the University of Minnesota for Psychology and English.