Written by Callan Latham
Art by Carlos Jairo


I don’t pick up the rocks by the river.
I don’t look up at the clouds,

I don’t wish for rain. I don’t go home,
and I don’t go anywhere else. I don’t wish

my body was a figment, I don’t want
my heart to choke on itself. I don’t like

sugar, or the quiet. I don’t wish for your
hands in mine. I don’t wait for the breath to

leave, or for the sun to stop crackling at the
night’s edges. I don’t remember the ache

of belonging, or of not being. I don’t remember
myself, stuck on the mat at the front door.