By Mia Bartschi
Hello,
and by hello,
I mean, where are you, and by
where are you,
I mean, it’s nearly midnight, as my limbs
have become blades of grass
fighting against a hurricane.
Hello,
and by hello,
I mean, where have you been, and
by that I mean,
the moment you fill
the backseat like another glass of
stumbling liquor,
I choose not to breathe.