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for me it’s redemption, for you it’s tuesday

I turn

the television

from the snowstorm

of the receiver

to the storm

of Buffy, slaying

creatures of the night

in a blizzard

of limbs—

demons, wolves, blood-

drinkers in the dark,

exploding into powder,

ashes, silver flashes

of glitter.

Imagine it happened here:

I would ask her

if she ever finds the glimmer

in strange places,

like her underwear,

the knife-divide

of her scalp,

the tissues

when she sneezes.

Imagine it happened to me,

by your hand.

It would be

a confetti-form

of gifts,

my salvation

at the stake,

your fingers brushing

the bursting

hole of my chest.

After, I’d imagine you

trudging home,

beating

your boots against the eaves

like a dusty heart,

leaving them to collapse

in a pile

at the door, the film

of my ash

still clinging

to the soles.

Kolbe Riney is a queer poet and registered nurse from Tucson, Arizona. Their work is featured or forthcoming in Lunch Ticket, Passages North, Rougarou, Watershed Review, and others. They have been nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology and their manuscript, “mythic” was longlisted for the 2021 Sexton Prize. Learn more: https://kolberiney.wixsite.com/website.