keeping in mind the winter i collect down comforters
for frost, asphalt for rush hour, keeping the kettle on
to bring flush back to flesh where bone meets bus stop.
once pedestrian, i find posture between cumulus and
chimney smoke, making an even ascent, like leavened
bread. when breath gives way to brinkmanship i will
find slouch in the weight of symmetry, tracing the slope
of snowfall and sea sweep, pythagorean and stiff in their
crystal lattices. will admire the modesty of geometry
when broken over the city. with every ear pop, i grow
out and over veins, cartilage, the skip and scuffle of
sidewalk, settling between the fault lines in cement.
resting on a park bench, these shoulders could be
mistaken for foliage, a weeping branch lacking
nourishment at the tailgate of harvest, muddled
in the mirage of stoplights where things are often
left and less often retrieved.


Hanna Andrews is a queer writer and student who has spent her entire life in Southern California. Her work explores the male gaze, the isolation of loneliness and historical themes. Her poetry has been recognized by the Cúirt International Festival of Literature as the winner of the 2017 Young Cúirt New Writing Prize and she was selected as a finalist for the 2017 F(r)iction Winter Poetry Contest.  She has been published or is forthcoming in Rookie, Penn Review, Aerie International, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Inkblot, among others, and she has a short methodology forthcoming in the Cockroach Blueprint Anthology. She enjoys a good cup o’joe and long walks on the beach. You can find her on the gram @biscotti.shawty.