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Poem by Bailey Brooke

Artwork © Eric N. Peterson

Artwork © Eric N. Peterson

 

We; She; Me

She. Weeped—
yet never wet. Dense—
yet let her be tender.
Never he; she—
felt the best.
Feeble?
Men—
the needle.
Never?
We; he—sent She; me. She
spends pens. Lets rest—
When he wept, he bent. She then
tends. She mends—
stress fled. She sheds
felt blends. She steps
where fresh set flesh. She tensed—
She knew.
Reflected. She’d seen,
Genes tested. Best her? Festered—
he nested.
The end? Depends—
let’s see.

 

Bailey Brooke (she/her) is a trans, autistic writer originally from Massachusetts, now teaching English in Thailand. Her writing explores themes of identity and neurodivergence, and she is currently working on her debut novel.

Eric N. Peterson is from Atlanta, Ga. He’s been drawing cartoons all his life. He leans towards the absurd, imaginative, and the surreal, as that’s where all the flavor is.

 

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