Three Months

Winter 2024, Winter 2024 Poetry

by CL Bledsoe Shaking hands. Shaking body. A red licorice panic twirling up my throat for days each time she calls. Stay busy. Projects. Work, like a weighted blanket. Date anyone, but be nice about it. Movies. Shows. Stand outside friends’ houses until they get home. Don’t make it weird. Bring dinner. Flowers. Be on.

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Clumsy

Summer 2022, Summer 2022 Poetry

by CL Bledsoe I’ve died here before. I’ve died here and kept stumbling toward that place where everyone is safe. I’ve seen it on tee-shirts. I hear helicopters, but they aren’t for me. You were the only way I could rise. Don’t leave me with the moon for my only friend. It’s cold and they

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