The In-Betweens |
Issue 11
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When the time comes to
sort my actions among the living, judge me fairly. Let me sit under you as y o u c o m b through my soul, looking for the I n - b e t w e e n s . It exists in the space where honey crystallizes and the tub all w o s w s me whole. Where my breath lives at dew point and m y o n l y f e a r is having to hear no, not say it. The space where I lead the moon by pinky and twine and squint at the stars. Where snakes E S C A P E from the soles of my bare feet as they pound grass, and t h e w o r d m o n s t e r bears no resemblance to anyone I’ve ever met. |
MICK MUERTE is a Latine, Taíno, trans-masc currently studying Creative Writing as a senior in undergrad. While he enjoys writing poems, his main passion for writing is through Creative Non-Fiction, where he often explores how his intersectionality as trans, indigenous, and low-income affect his relationships with those around him.
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