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Issue 4.1 

Winter 2024
4.1 Bee LB

BEE LB

Reflection

These poems work the lens of memory as though it were a door. The doorframe a container, the hinge allowing movement from present to past, the door itself both protection and entrapment. The lens of memory shifts in and out of focus. My brother, antagonist. My brother, protector. My brother, imprisoned. My self, antagonist. My self, searching. My self, not free until he is.

memories flicker light over film reel

 

eight years old, seats folded flat, blankets piled high

in the back of your parents’ van. pillows indented

by three small heads. you imagine you’re in a movie

 

as colors blur, an endless stream of light bright as

camera flash. night so cold and vibrant you almost

forget you’ve learnt fear. instead, you remember.

 

you are not in your body

you are in the moment. eyes of wonder.

a scene change you didn’t get direction for.

 

cut scene, roughly patched.

 

your father pulling big brother out of the car,

your mother carrying baby brother, and you

 

rushing to catch up. your little legs can only carry you

so far.

 

one day these memories approach an accident

and you will pull away. but not yet. his small hands

stretched out, strung by desire. your small body

 

held taut. somewhere between jealousy and shame.

what you know:

 

another cutscene you weren’t prepared for.

 

car packed, leaving the city. you may never come back.

your life will double in size before it’s cut down.

 

rush of wind through open windows.

your parents’ voices a distant rumble.

 

waking up vertical while still laying down,

surrounded on all sides by drop-off.

 

a fear of falling still developing.

BEE LB is an array of letters, bound to impulse; a writer creating delicate connections. they've called any number of places home; currently, a single yellow wall in Michigan. they've been published in FOLIO, Figure 1, and The Offing, among others. their portfolio can be found at twinbrights.carrd.co

BEE LB's Book Recommendations

Felon, Reginald Dwayne Betts. 

When My Brother Was an Aztec, Natalie Diaz. 

Here is the Night and the Night on the Road, Mónica Gomery. 

What About the Rest of Your Life, sung yim. 

Prelude to Bruise, Saeed Jones.

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