waves / by Sarah Dauer

when you are surrounded by strong women and you are lonely, remember that you are one too. one day, when anabella corran in the 5th grade told you that you were nothing, you marched home from the bus stop dry-mouthed and stomping, beats on the asphalt carried up through your kneecaps and tickling your spine. you said, “i will not be pushed over any longer”. and then later, in the postscript of the postcard you would mail your sister (even though your address was the same), you wrote “one day i will build a great sandcastle with grains wedged into my fingernails, and i will spend the whole day picking them out and laughing”. you have not bought your own dorm set of tarot cards yet, but the ones at home are water-damaged and honest, which is more than you can say of any boy you have met here. and the loneliness comes in waves and reminds you of the time your mother used to chase you around the house, and the hole you cut in your window screen “in case there’s a fire”, and the coffee shop back home with dragonflies dangling from the ceiling. please remember that you are worth more than the straight girls say you’re worth. you are the discs like dipping hills dripping down your spine, and the warm blanket you have wrapped yourself in straight out of the dryer.


Sarah Dauer is a 19-year-old queer Jewish poet from New Jersey going to school in Western Mass. Her work has also been featured in Vagabond City and Yellow Chair Review. For bagel related content follow her on twitter @lameearthpers0n