Poetry by Miah Clark

                       Alexander Rabb CC

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Y3ST3RDAY
                a journal

a sharp breath / a nose bleed / your eyes water and wipe what drips / "this happens a lot" / it shouldn't /
your nails are longer than mine lately / and painted white, only on the underside / i only said yes because
you asked so nicely / nice guy / i don't know if you remember / night guy / you said one is enough to
start with / but we'll just see where the night takes us / night guy / you taught me not to fear snowstorms
/ or a beating heart / bigger pupils / big guy / skyscraper / i think in that moment i was shrinking / when
the breathing returns to normal / when the dark circles set in / i see we are both shrinking / so small / so
afraid / i thought you might kill me / i thought i might i let you / and look now / how we have both died
/ side by side 

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i watch as you wipe your own nose
and pat dry your own eyelashes
and cough up your own blood - 
point your finger to the white spots -
cough up your bad night
or good
telling me how it doesn't make a difference
once you've reached this point
- i'm trying to learn from you

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Miah Clark is a young queer poet currently studying English and Creative Writing at the University of Iowa and working towards the publication of her first collection of poetry. Other works of hers have been published by Elementia Literary Magazine, Poets Globe & Poets Tribe, Stonefruit Magazine, Haloscope Magazine, and can be found on her poetry specific Instagram, @miahwrites.

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