I am in your hand, the crook of it.
You drink in the light and ask stupid
questions and we pretend any of it
matters. I will die before I let this go.
This bar is beautiful because it knows
our names, because the kid behind
the counter was in our high school
history class and he remembers us
too. We overtip because you work
at a sex shop and the cash payouts
are crazy, and I want this forever, the
way I want to leave, all with a fervor,
and I take your face in my hands and
tell you that getting out is inevitable,
the way a hometown is, the way our
friend died and we just went on.
Hailing from Michigan, Audrey Beaton studied Korean and English with a focus in Creative Writing at the University of Hawai’i at Mānoa. Their poetry and essays have been published in The Broadkill Review, Cornell’s Rainy Day Literary Magazine, The Garlic Press, and more. They have been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.