"22"

A poem by Bekah Black.

I’m gathering days—

Paper slowly turning autumnal.

Cheerfully embracing the fingers and palms

That settle me to yellows,

That prompt my “good morning”

To the sun that waters me.

Bekah Black grew up in Pittsburgh, as a child writing novels about gem princesses and as a teen writing angsty poems about ribcages. Now, a college graduate and fledgling adult, her essays, stories, and poems inevitably circle around bodies and body imagery, nosing about in the sacred mystery of what it means to have one. Her work has previously appeared in publications such as Levee Magazine, NCHC’s Journal of Undergraduate Research and Creative Activity, and The Bookends Review.