MUMBLINGS by LEAH HILL

it was always
Seattle
it was always in the dark our
bodies in search of something
a drink a dance an
open doorway the four
of us, one me
two duos you
with your pale eyes, your
name I saw a love inside
distantly, we four
walked Seattle’s
Greek row, four
who would never arrive, you
who loved Brand New
teased me about Daisy, asking
what are we doing.
where are we going.
in a voice like serpentine
stone and the mumblings
I never caught, except
another night, a visit to your
rented closet called a home
wine bottles on hardwood
Friends DVDs
did you call yourself a Rachel,
I remember your strange
visions and asides and the way you
left the country, you were
in love with another far from
Seattle and you
had a dog together and a life the way I loved
your mother as my German teacher, two years
and never once did we three
share breath,
breathe that connection awake the way I
never told that you walked my mind
sometimes, I envisioned you
in joy, wherever
you might be the way you
once asked for a help I’d once
offered, just a couch and in the end
I couldn’t give, unsuredness
the long term distance
we were always a text away
but the closest we ever came was Greek row
Seattle
hill-walked and party-hopped
until our duo of duos gave up
our four split into two back near
UW’s dorms
I watched your thin back
walking towards Cornish in your
duo and
all I can think to do is cherish
the light of the street lamps, the way they
winked in your hair
as you walked that way.


Leah Hill is a 25 year old nonbinary writer who likes to pretend they’re a poet. Mostly they just try to use words to document the reality happening in their head. In their spare time they like to get lost in the woods, play acoustic covers of The National songs and write letters to their representatives and loved ones. You can find them on twitter: @witchbae

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