AUBADE WITH(OUT) DEATH
The morning after she chose not to die
someone’s daughter opens a duffel bag,
stuffs a bra with cash, grabs keys. For armor
& talisman: she wears her father’s coat.
Last night she looked down on an empty sky,
saw her prayer become predator, &
heard vultures’ politics loom overhead.
At the gas station, she leaves last night’s death
at the altar, scries her new life in the
mirror opens her eyes to the morning
where the geese crash-land into brackish ponds,
hiss at the squirrels, but the cardinals
pay no mind, balance on telephone wires:
the country’s metrical synapses. Pulse.
someone’s daughter opens a duffel bag,
stuffs a bra with cash, grabs keys. For armor
& talisman: she wears her father’s coat.
Last night she looked down on an empty sky,
saw her prayer become predator, &
heard vultures’ politics loom overhead.
At the gas station, she leaves last night’s death
at the altar, scries her new life in the
mirror opens her eyes to the morning
where the geese crash-land into brackish ponds,
hiss at the squirrels, but the cardinals
pay no mind, balance on telephone wires:
the country’s metrical synapses. Pulse.
Mia-Jo Bella is an Oklahoman poet and sexual health advocate. She’s interested in nurturing a future for trans people with her work.
Beaver Magazine 