Words With Friends
I can purchase words by category: The Human Body, Sexology, Expressions.
I download an app to learn
a new word each day, to keep
my mind off things.
I can purchase words by category:
The Human Body, Sexology, Expressions.
For $35.99, I can hear a digital man say anemoia
as many times as I’d like.
I can finally describe what it was
to watch a pale blue butterfly,
the size of a bread clip, cautiously scope
the perimeter of a lake for three days
before gaining the confidence to land,
only to subsequently pull
its own wings clean off.
On day seven, I unlock a reward,
a reverie—the sweet side of ache.
I hold my breath long enough
to feel the searing in my throat.
I scroll past imbrue.
I grapple with the synonymity between “footnote”
and “companion plots.”
There should be a word for
the small stretch of time
between sleep and consciousness.
There should be a better word for grief,
but grief is just grief.
The truth is I never cared much
for the notion of coming from a rib until you
told me I’d been ripped from yours.
The truth is I’m still hoping wings can grow back.
Rejuvenate, maybe.
Transcend, perhaps.
Aubri Kaufman is the chief chaos creator for Icebreakers Lit. Her work can be found in Pithead Chapel, trampset, HAD, Rejection Letters, Identity Theory, and elsewhere. She’s on a bunch of the socials as @aubrirose and she totally wants to talk to you.
