In the dream / I’m all hallways / windows where the doors should be / behind distorted glass / memories / all my shit / got miscoded / strobe light nervous system / blinking Christmas light response / lighthouse with a laser for an eye / someone came in / turned all the lights on / left them on for 20 years / the light bill came due / like an apocalypse / She was with me / in the last hallway / the one with the door / I thought I knew then what was in there / that was only th

—which is why I keep quiet. The small forest where I grow what should happen, which is really just what I want to happen. Like anything, this could burn, too. ⯀ I watched a documentary about forests. Reminded me of dad too much. The planting after clear cuts, all new so the trees grow identical. Same height, same everything. And walking through it reminds me that I didn’t grow fast enough. Made small by a thousand mirror-image trees. ⯀ Mom, the burns. Not prescribed

Queer hopeless romantic Mae Fraser (any pronouns) is a New Hampshire based poet and book enthusiast. After receiving their degree in Creative Writing from Salem State University, they have gone on to have work featured or forthcoming with Wayfarer. LEVITATE, Juste Milieu Zine, and others. Find them online @maeflowerreads.