i heard you came home today

when your mind’s suburbia becomes urban again
& kids start drowning in your town’s water towers
& your fists marry the mirror in the
Unitarian Universalist church down the street,

& when the static in your head starts to speak
& when every hair on your body stands up
like thousands of dark brown antennae
& when a tree falls in the forest &
you’re the only one that can hear it,

& when they marry you to the building
rename you 51/50 &
take all sharp things as dowry
& when the universe collapses down
to the size of a hospital bed,

& when visitors say your love filled the room
like an anthem
& when visitors say the only thing they see
is you seeing them,

& when they finally hand you a plastic bag
with everything sharp and unbroken
& you go home,

one day they will offer you free cigarettes to
play yourself in the biopic
& you’ll say you’d rather relive high school.

& anyways, you’ve stopped smoking.

By Tanya Azari

Biography:

Tanya Azari is a 21 year old genderqueer poet in California’s Bay Area working towards becoming a high school English teacher. They have self-published three chapbooks and are currently working on a fourth. More work can be found at http://heretherebesomething.tumblr.com/