I like to start with what this won’t mean.
My vertebrae will still stack up into a spine.
My lungs will push and pull
like the heave of a festival crowd.
And the sun won’t just shift
to the left of this horizon.
It will still scorch from the very centre.
The morning’s first breath will still catch in my throat
like a thermos in an empty lunch pail.
And the lipstick you baked onto the clothes in the dryer
will always be the brightest you ever bought.
Even without this, these lines will hold.
-Lindsay Hutton. 01.01.22.
Lindsay Hutton 