This is a good thing, / I promise. / I didn’t mean for you to brake / so hard / so down / halfway home from the pharmacy. / I know it’s your worst / nightmare, an explosion / in the road, / a slip into a burial ground / of trees. / See, it’s only automatic, / a response like this; what else / do you call an accidental open valve, / an alarm for an incomplete circuit? I know / you call it panic. Never mind / the shape. If you can think of streetlights / as celestial, think of me as a gold / star. I’m not always proof / of a future crisis. Can you hear / me humming? Listen, / I just want to be looked after.
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Caylee Gardner (she/they) is a queer writer from Salt Lake City, Utah. When not writing about nature, queerness, and (sometimes) resilience, they enjoy wandering green spaces and spending time with friends. Their work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Canticle, The Shore, Salamander, and others. They now live in New York City.