In case you drive halfway up the mountains but decide to turn
back. In case you went too fast for the I-95. In case we argued
till the car swerved into a deer or some raccoon. Dead roadkill.
In case the roads stretch into the shadows of pines, the one-way
lane splitting into the soil, in case we get lost and never find our
way out of the 10,000 acres of land. water. all the things left unsaid.
In case I lose my phone in the woods and I won’t be able to call
my mother and tell her how much I love a boy (the boy being you).
In case I will never get the courage to do this again, I tell you I will
always be in love with you. Just a little. Even though I can’t choose
who I love, I loved you anyways. Even though I knew from the start
that you knew what I wanted. All the shadows. The musk of your
hoodie, your arms pressing against mine. It rains so hard even
in June. My hands are still clinging to the warm ruins of you.
Saturn Browne (she/they) is a writer from New England. Her work appears in SoFloPoJo, Gone Lawn, Eunoia Review, and more. Saturn was a 2023 Adroit Journal mentee in poetry, as well as an alumna of Kenyon Review and Ellipsis Workshops, where she studied under Noah Falck and Shangyang Fang. She has been recognized by The Pulitzer Center, Smith College, Hollins University, and CT River Review amongst others. The 2023 youth poet laureate of Connecticut, their debut chapbook, BLOODPATHS, was published in April with Kith Books. Saturn loves art galleries, the ocean, and A24 films. Find her https://saturnbrowne.carrd.co/
Original Art by Dilara Sümbül
