Illustration by Kat Morgan


September reminds me that the wind is always dying. I remember the first time I left my world the earth was a split vocabulary: the first time I ran away; first time I fainted like a nocturnal animal; (first time I died and did not die). It became too easy, for the wail of the ambulance to blend in with the sidewalks. Like building a skyscraper, over and over again, until it became the sharp blade of a mountain or steeple. Of course, there was a you, and between the two of us, what were we but frightened? Oh, my accident! Do you remember the night I listened carefully to a love song but felt unable to hold you to my thrumming aches?

Loisa Fenichell

Loisa Fenichell is a graduate of SUNY Purchase College, where she studied Creative Writing and Literature. Her work has been featured or is forthcoming in various publications, such as The Winter Tangerine Review, The Nervous Breakdown, As It Ought To Be Magazine, Voicemail Poems, and Sundog Lit. Her debut collection, all these urban fields, was published by nothing to say press. She is an MFA candidate at Saint Mary’s College of California.