Wedding Ring in Broken Bones By Julia Zhou

Wedding Ring in Broken Bones

In these last years, I pluck myself
together as each          ruffled feather

tethered to bone.         I grow unripe,
slot myself plum sour between plastic.

In these last years,       I say
pretend. That lilacs     are blooming

under the stairs, the marble slate
smoothed        glossed over the lip

crystal shine & dazzling. How many
times have I heard this story before?

Scratched        into flesh         with broken
bones. My skin            your skin         tattered

white elephant skin     yielding softness
under wide      open                eyes

we live on blindly       bodies pressed
against the wind          chill     of marble splits

our bloodstreams   into a new gash    of hoping.
Time in & time out.    Hemorrhage rust.

Our mouths     around             tuneless pulsations,
around white               napkin rinds. & I say pretend

we can filter out          this static. & I say pretend
we are doused in white           soothing tongues in

a sprig of mint.            & I say end it here.

You may kiss the bride,
but you may not hold her.

By Julia Zhou


Julia Zhou is a high school senior from Herndon, Virginia. Her writing has been recognized by the Poetry Society of the UK and the National YoungArts Foundation; they can be found in Antithesis Journal, Blue Marble Review, and Typishly, among others. Find her napping with a Campbell’s textbook cradled in arm, playing quizbowl, or staring at the moon.

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