top of page

I want to burn them all my ex lovers a pyre to the strength they gave

me who's had the last laugh as I strut down Myrtle Avenue side by side

no hands held when you're not mine and I couldn't be yours if I tried

we could run the world with our brains but here the world runs into us

on our walk as summer ends the small world I roll my eyes you make jokes

and we've seen we're seen I'm seeing not shrinking into shadows again

this time last year when I was all dark and lean and inhuman you know

too well it still hangs on my ankles rattling ball and chain but I drag it

feel human whole again connect to others and love insofar as it exists

In the summertime we get neon sunsets in Brooklyn and where did it go

this summer we were blurs had lovers saw the world like you're supposed to

maybe coming into bloom all tulips crawling up from frozen bulbs in the dead

earth loved them all and then some but fall is a birth and you've forced no

choices so I'm round and whole this time around feeling open like I could grow

something finally and our Catholic guilt swings hand in hand like matched

heartbeat drumlines synchronized swimming to all the ways we could have been

better but to worry over you is a treat

Sloane Eliot Mariem is a Florida-raised, Brooklyn-based poet exploring trauma, recovery, and the formation of new relationships in the wake of domestic violence. Her work has appeared in Vending Machine Press and Electric Cereal and she has read in NYC as part of the Vapors reading series.

bottom of page