Sundress Reads: Review of Destroy Me, Desecrate My Bones

A line-art sheep wearing spectacles reads a book while drinking a mug holding a hot beverage next to the Sundress Reads Logo

Victoria Hood’s Destroy Me, Desecrate My Bones (Girl Noise Press, 2026) is a hybrid collection that shows how a build-up of unsettled yearning can break a person down. In a mix of grotesque, obsessive, and confessional voices, Hood’s writing pulls you deeper into the spiraling decay of being in love. Split into six sections, Destroy Me, Desecrate My Bones begins with trying to cling to love before the subsequent sections turn to consuming, reshaping, and surrendering to the damage. I focus on the first two sections, “To Contain” and “To Devour,” to track the transition from clinging to consuming.

What strikes me about the prose piece “I’m Sorry We’re Getting Married” in “To Contain” is that it is entirely about her, even if it obsessively focuses on their connection. We never hear Harry’s voice, yet by the end she seems to feel her questions have been answered, and she closes with “see you at the wedding in July.” I keep wondering how much time sits between her writing this and seeing him, and whether he ever hears any of it. The piece fixates on “I love you, Harry,” and nearly every time she says it, an insecurity or another thought about why it wouldn’t work follows. Reading it, I found myself asking: if you have to repeat it this many times, do you truly love him, or are you trying to prove to other people the marriage is right for the two of you? Each declaration reads to me like a battle over which matters more: the lover she holds close, or the people watching. Even so, the close, “I think I’ve answered my question,” feels like she’s trying to force an ending rather than letting it happen naturally.

“I want to feel you drip down me” in “To Devour” mixes intimacy and eroticism in the most grotesque way you can imagine. But then it turns from “I want” to “I don’t want,” and the tone shifts from erotic to haunting: the speaker wants to “clean off the world” from their partner “before you enter the house,” insists, “I don’t want you to die,” then wipes them down and licks them clean “before the sacrifice can begin.” It tips from kinky to ritualistic quickly, and the “sweet and sticky” substance in the beginning is called honey but reads as bodily, especially with “before your insides can come out.” Both readings, a kinky couple and a cannibalistic one, end up being about the same thing: being known by someone so completely that you consume them and hear thoughts you can’t normally. The impossibility of getting inside someone’s head is turned literal through the possessive care of stripping off shoes, clothes, and germs to keep their lover safe, but also isolating them from the rest of the world.

The prose in “How are you?” in “To Devour” is where the collection shifts; there is a stark volley between “The Girl” and “The Best Friend.” They think about the other often and reminisce about each other, yet neither says anything. It is the most poignant compared to the previous poems in the collection because it’s so relatable to friends drifting apart when both are going through difficult things at the same time. The line that resonates with this the most is when you hear The Girl’s interiority: “It is hard to do well when you are nervous that your wellness is not as important as someone else’s.” When one friend is doing better, and the other one is struggling, there are social scripts with clear roles to fall into. But when both care deeply despite their separate struggles, they can’t tell who fits which role, and the confusion can create more distance, as it does here. Even at this distance, the grotesque hasn’t left. “Neither of them wants to climb inside each other, they are both scared to bring up the insides” mirrors earlier poems that try to consume the person the speaker cares about. Here, the same imagery becomes emotional intimacy they can’t risk, so the merging of their bodies appears as a fear of being that close.

Reading Hood’s collection, I came away feeling that the search for love and connection never actually ends. It keeps pushing deeper until it can’t be contained, and the book’s sections follow that path from “To Contain” to “To Spill Over.” Her narratives are messy and grotesque, and refuse to be cleaned up neatly. Intimacy arises, fails, and sometimes succeeds, and the book treats all of it as love that needs to be honored because it is difficult and uncomfortable to face. Often the love isn’t even heard by the other person, and the poems suggest that being heard may not be the most important part of feeling connected. Even though Hood writes love as something that cannot be held in, I felt held by her work. It captures the weird, sad girls who cry over everything and never had a place to put those feelings. Now we can set them down in her collection.

Order your copy from Girl Noise Press today!


Emma Flores is an undergraduate student at Binghamton University studying English. They have a particular interest in researching human behavior and society through storytelling, with a focus on cultural narratives and folklore. In their free time, Emma can be found doing tarot readings, wandering bookstores, or hunting down spiritual shops for the next deck to add to their growing collection.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Everything Has Been Moved, Even the Dead by Jen Siraganian


This feature, chosen by Guest Editor Ty Raso, is from Everything Has Been Moved, Even the Dead by Jen Siraganian (Perugia Press 2026).

TO THE PURPLE DYE INSERTED INTO MY UTERUS


Oh loveliness, tell me what you see—
which horizon hues open to you. What

I didn’t know I didn’t need to know
until now. Are my fallopian tubes

roller-coaster looped or sidewalk-slick?
Do you detect dangers there? I only

know what I’ve been told. Here
on my crackling paper bed, I am soothed

by our meeting through a screen. Like you,
I looked for home somewhere. Let’s see

each other eye to dye. Find the caves,
the linings. Seek that uncharted I never

explored in person. How lucky are you
to have a place to go. Send forth, tinsel-light

the highways, the potential paths. Announce,
This way, this way. We are all so blind.

The hollows swallow you. You thread through
like cracks in wood grain. Spiraling my lining alive.

I envy your mobility. Bloom my insides.
What doesn’t yet grow needs rich soil.

Uncloak what has yet to seed.


Jen Siraganian (she/her) is an Armenian-American writer, educator, and former poet laureate of Los Gatos, California. Her poetry has appeared in AGNI, Best New Poets 2016 and 2025, The Cincinnati Review, Electric Literature, Poetry Daily, Prairie Schooner, The Rumpus, the anthology Heaven Looks Like Us: Palestinian Poetry, and elsewhere, and she is a winner of the New Ohio Review Poetry Prize and The Writing Salon’s Jane Underwood Poetry Prize. She served as managing director of Litquake: San Francisco’s Literary Festival, and she is a Lucas Artist Fellow at the Montalvo Arts Center in Saratoga, California.

Ty Raso (she/they) is a trans character, poet, and teacher. Her work has shared space with POETRY, Electric Literature, The Adroit Journal, Foglifter Journal, The Offing, Black Warrior Review, and elsewhere. She feels most at home near rivers, and they were a 2023-2024 and 2025-2026 Poetry Fellow at the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center, and a 2025 Djanikian Scholar with The Adroit Journal. Her debut full-length collection, MIRROR WOULD BE A BEAUTIFUL NAME FOR A CHILD is forthcoming with Noemi Press in October 2027. You can find her on Instagram @spaghetti_utopia.


The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming by dezireé a. brown


This feature, chosen by Guest Editor Ty Raso, is from they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming by dezireé a. brown (Host Publications 2025).

Level IV: Secret Level

Editors’ Note: Given the formatting of these poems, they are best viewed as below in an uploaded PDF format.



dr. dez brown (they/he), publishing as dezireé a. brown, is a Black queer nonbinary and transmasculine Pushcart Prize–nominated poet and interdisciplinary scholar, born and raised in Flint, MI. Their debut collection of poetry, they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming, was the winner of the Joe W. Bratcher Prize and a finalist for the 2026 Leslie Feinberg Award for Trans and Gender-Variant Literature. Often claiming to have been born with a poem written across his chest, he spends much of his time gaming and plays a mean hand of spades. Follow them online at @deziree.the.writer.

Ty Raso (she/they) is a trans character, poet, and teacher. Her work has shared space with POETRY, Electric Literature, The Adroit Journal, Foglifter Journal, The Offing, Black Warrior Review, and elsewhere. She feels most at home near rivers, and they were a 2023-2024 and 2025-2026 Poetry Fellow at the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center, and a 2025 Djanikian Scholar with The Adroit Journal. Her debut full-length collection, MIRROR WOULD BE A BEAUTIFUL NAME FOR A CHILD is forthcoming with Noemi Press in October 2027. You can find her on Instagram @spaghetti_utopia.


The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming by dezireé a. brown


This feature, chosen by Guest Editor Ty Raso, is from they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming by dezireé a. brown (Host Publications 2025).

are you a boy or a girl, her niece asks,
        and I turn to smoke,


watch the wilted / sun

                                                                  gallop / from the trees

planted / on my chin

                                                                  my body / a vortex



my body / an echo

                                                                 my body / set out

in the lake / a tomb

                                                                 of chest / hair and broken



teeth / her voice / a shower

                                                                of pebbles / before the wind

puts on / a dress

                                                                and carries my breasts / out         to sea


dr. dez brown (they/he), publishing as dezireé a. brown, is a Black queer nonbinary and transmasculine Pushcart Prize–nominated poet and interdisciplinary scholar, born and raised in Flint, MI. Their debut collection of poetry, they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming, was the winner of the Joe W. Bratcher Prize and a finalist for the 2026 Leslie Feinberg Award for Trans and Gender-Variant Literature. Often claiming to have been born with a poem written across his chest, he spends much of his time gaming and plays a mean hand of spades. Follow them online at @deziree.the.writer.

Ty Raso (she/they) is a trans character, poet, and teacher. Her work has shared space with POETRY, Electric Literature, The Adroit Journal, Foglifter Journal, The Offing, Black Warrior Review, and elsewhere. She feels most at home near rivers, and they were a 2023-2024 and 2025-2026 Poetry Fellow at the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center, and a 2025 Djanikian Scholar with The Adroit Journal. Her debut full-length collection, MIRROR WOULD BE A BEAUTIFUL NAME FOR A CHILD is forthcoming with Noemi Press in October 2027. You can find her on Instagram @spaghetti_utopia.


The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming by dezireé a. brown


This feature, chosen by Guest Editor Ty Raso, is from they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming by dezireé a. brown (Host Publications 2025).

etymology of flight: a venn diagram

Editors’ Note: Given the formatting of these poems, they are best viewed as below in an uploaded PDF format.

dr. dez brown (they/he), publishing as dezireé a. brown, is a Black queer nonbinary and transmasculine Pushcart Prize–nominated poet and interdisciplinary scholar, born and raised in Flint, MI. Their debut collection of poetry, they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming, was the winner of the Joe W. Bratcher Prize and a finalist for the 2026 Leslie Feinberg Award for Trans and Gender-Variant Literature. Often claiming to have been born with a poem written across his chest, he spends much of his time gaming and plays a mean hand of spades. Follow them online at @deziree.the.writer.

Ty Raso (she/they) is a trans character, poet, and teacher. Her work has shared space with POETRY, Electric Literature, The Adroit Journal, Foglifter Journal, The Offing, Black Warrior Review, and elsewhere. She feels most at home near rivers, and they were a 2023-2024 and 2025-2026 Poetry Fellow at the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center, and a 2025 Djanikian Scholar with The Adroit Journal. Her debut full-length collection, MIRROR WOULD BE A BEAUTIFUL NAME FOR A CHILD is forthcoming with Noemi Press in October 2027. You can find her on Instagram @spaghetti_utopia.


Meet Our New Intern: Miranda Spurlock

Yesterday, I started crying at a video of flowers blooming from cracks in the sidewalk. Seeing all those blooms burst through a crack of open light, using tiny opportunities to propel themselves to the surface, past dark, rough stone, becoming a small little miracle, one so small it is probably often ignored by most and never seen for its true beauty. I think that is what made me cry, that there is so much beauty in this world hidden amongst the fast-paced way we live and the negative circumstances that our world has been immersed in. That there is living, growing hope in our world. I cried because it was so sad that beauty gets buried under loud headlines and buzzing phones, that we walk so quickly trying to get to the next stop that we forget to look down and see flowers reaching for the sky, for life. Then I started to laugh because I was so grateful to be a person who could feel this much over weeds growing through concrete, that I was fortunate enough to be a person who paused long enough to take in the wonder of small miracles. So, with a tear-stained face and a tickle of laughter in my throat, I allowed myself to feel, because that is a lovely, vivacious thing in itself.

I thought this was a good introduction to me because it is often a part of myself I find hard to really explain. That I feel so big that my emotions become a wave of passion in themself, and for a long time I had wished that away.  Feeling so strongly and intimately was and is really difficult to manage; I wanted to be free of my racing mind, but as I get older I realize it is a blessing to see meaning and hope in such small things. To think and ponder and hope and dream, to cry and laugh, to love and hurt are all a giant gift. I am blessed that my bleeding heart emphasizes my admiration for many things; it allows me to see the magic in cat meows, warm tea, the way tree branches create patterns against the blue sky, bumper stickers that a person looked at and related to so much that they stuck it on the back of their car, and books that make you feel at home. Having a vast ocean of feelings that allows me to slow down enough to appreciate all that is wondrous makes me feel like I have my own form of enchantment. So, if you ever catch me in a mini skirt staring at the sidewalk crying, just know I’m okay and right where I want to be.

Now don’t confuse me for some strictly melancholic and metaphorical woman simply because of my feeble attempt at being profound. At my core, I am nostalgia-stricken, hyperfeminine, and a touch off-putting to some. I love fairies, the cute and sparkly ones, and the ones that would trick you into running away to Faireworld to dance your feet off. Unicorns? Obsessed. Mermaids? Enthralled.  I am also extremely into clothes and the color pink. I also think a list of items that you can never have enough of includes lip gloss, purses, stuffed animals, and BOOKS. I think to conclude this messy introduction, if I was creating myself in a potion these are the ingredients I would mix into the cauldron: Pondering, books about magic, cats and other small creatures, attempting as many hobbies as possible, hot pink glitter, Halloween, whimsy, sweet treats, fairies, an extreme love for 80s movies with hand-made puppets that look like goblins, a deep admiration for art, and a yearning for adventure no matter how small.

A white woman with long blond hair standing next to bookshelves. She has on a headband, a blue and pink dress, and an arm cuff. She is smiling.

Miranda Spurlock is a cat mom of one, but if you count the feral cats who use their charming manipulation on her (their cute faces), she is a cat mom of 4-8 on any given day. She loves the color pink; she is very fond of fairies, and escaping into a book is what she does best. She really prides herself on creativity and has tried almost every hobby there is to try. She is currently a senior at UTK, where she is majoring in Business Management, and minoring in English.

Sundress Reads: Review of WANT by nat raum

Sundress Reads

In their poetry collection WANT (ink & ivy, 2026), nat raum maps a queer, nonbinary identity through borrowed childhood evidence: bras that don’t fit right, pink men’s button-ups, and loopy cheerleader handwriting. They translate the stubborn self-denial of “token straight friend” just as fluently as the gender-envious longing of “hot sugar,” tracing the aching gap between an inner world and how it is perceived. Just as their epigraph foreshadows–“Hindsight is 20/20”–the self raum uncovers isn’t found through introspection, but read off of external symbols worn along the way.

In “what’s in a name,” the narrator shortens their birth name by two syllables at ten years old, “back when i still liked rules,” a small rebellious moment that functions in hindsight as a first flicker of the future self that they had not known yet. The poem loosely takes the shape of a ghazal, with couplets ending with the same end-word “name,” and in a way, it also closes traditionally the way a ghazal does, with a takhallus, the poet signing their name at the end. The form is usually thematically for love and longing for one’s beloved, and raum’s version repurposes it to court the future, or “want”ed self instead: the correct name that finally fits right for them, “nat,” is what the speaker finishes the poem with. 

“cheerleader handwriting” is structured differently, as a full verse paragraph. The enjambment of the line “the ways i was taught how to / woman” splits the infinitive from the word “woman” which is used as a verb here; the separation almost symbolizing the literal gap they felt from the performative acts of womanhood they break from, “splitting the walls of the binary.” raum’s handwriting, again, acts as another piece of evidence, “an inherent act of queerness,” that joins the list of markers scattered through all the poems. “men’s section” uses the same paragraph format to catalog more small, norm-breaking acts: of buying a pink men’s button-up and wearing hidden boxer shorts under uniforms, their significance confirmed by the line “what a joy to know i have always been walking in this direction.”

raum not only borrows objects to mark the self, but they also make use of allusions that range from Shakespeare to quote-tweets, treating each reference with the same weight. “what’s in a name” opens with the line “i would not be a rose, sweet by any name,” inverting Juliet’s “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Where Juliet is claiming that names do not hold significance, raum’s speaker insists that they do, and the entire poem continues as a search for the right one. “token straight friend” echoes the opening of Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl,” (“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness”) with the line “i saw the best minds of my generation decide they were gay as fuck.” This can almost be read as aligning being “gay” with being “mad” and is reflected in how the speaker continues to deny their own queerness throughout the poem, insisting that they are “straighter than a plastic ruler.” “cheerleader handwriting” is built off of a tweet: “being trans is weird why am i an adult man with cheerleader handwriting.” Shakespeare, Ginsberg, and a random stranger on the internet all get cited with the same authority, and none are treated as more legitimate than the others. It is also the same method that raum applies to objects; the self does not just wear borrowed clothes, it speaks in borrowed lines, in an attempt to understand itself.

This pattern of borrowing, however, does show its cracks, even from the beginning of the collection. In “hot sugar,” raum reveals that amidst the “cavalcade of learning gender by rapt observation,” it was not truly gender itself that they were envious of, but rather “the sureness with which it was performed.” And in the final line, they reject the entire pattern of borrowing and adjusting to the binary, instead turning to “choose divine emptiness.” This idea later returns in the concluding poem, “tomboy,” when the speaker is “steeped in the sweet of this nothing.” This line lands powerfully for the closing of the collection, because it isn’t new, but a sentiment that the speaker has been circling the whole time. After a series of collecting pieces of past evidence, the last poem doesn’t aim to add them all up, but instead puts them down.

For readers who have done this same secondhand accounting, sifting through external objects and words, to find a definition for their internal being, WANT offers a sort of company. But it also points to another direction, a way out, toward a “divine” nothingness, a refusal to fit within any single gender, binary, or category at all.

Purchase your copy here!


Dia Manoj (she/her) is a lover of reading, writing, and coding. She is a junior at The University of Tennessee, double majoring in Computer Science and English with a concentration in Creative Writing. She has developed several software projects, including an iOS app, and loves finding ways to combine her passion for storytelling and technology. She explores this fusion through her self-built writing website, diamanoj.com. Outside of her creative endeavors, she enjoys London fogs, vampires, and pestering her loved ones.

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming by dezireé a. brown


This feature, chosen by Guest Editor Ty Raso, is from they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming by dezireé a. brown (Host Publications 2025).

short film beneath a cloak of stars

Mrs.  Potato  Head  visits the  planetarium  alone  once her  husband  finally  goes on
vacation, grateful  for the  opportunity to  take her time  learning the  composition of
the  celestial  universe.  On  their last  trip, he  strolled  through  each exhibit  quickly
and pouted in the  cafeteria until she could stand it no longer. All she can  remember
is  the  big bang  theory and  pools of  dust and  ice  and  how  much her feet ached  in
those  emerald  heels  he  insisted  she  wear, but  not  this  time.  Today  Mrs.  Potato
Head tours  the  planets in  a mellow  ochre suit  and penny loafers bought for a  solo
vacation  that  never materialized.  A child  wails with  their hands  on the  surface of
Titan,  and she  gives a polite  smile to  the parent  reaching  out  with  yogurt  before
gazing upon Saturn’s rings. She considers her own body born out among those rings,
bits  of  asteroid and  mountain  swirling,  barely held together:  a body  not so  easily
identified.  But  Titan is  too close to  human life.  Humans are  obsessed with  seeing
their reflections in the glow of Saturn’s rotating eye.

Mrs. Potato Head slips into the gender neutral bathroom and removes the moustache
from her breast pocket. Presses it into place before she meets her own reflection
worlds away: her body a knot of wires, trailing electricity across the abyss above the
clouds. Mrs. Potato Head studies Luna and her scars, how the oceans mirror each
ragged breath, watches ten people stare into a telescope that spans the length of a
body twice her height. When she finally reads about dark matter, she can see herself
reunited with the stars, split among new constellations, fading in and out of opacity.
A blip of astral euphoria. In another world, her name would be Neptune and she
would dance with women on swathes of ice. Mrs. Potato Head isn’t sure how she
married a man who doesn’t appreciate museums, but she now knows she is a dwarf
planet on course to collide with the Sun. She rides the subway home with ancient
flight charts transposed on her wrists.


dr. dez brown (they/he), publishing as dezireé a. brown, is a Black queer nonbinary and transmasculine Pushcart Prize–nominated poet and interdisciplinary scholar, born and raised in Flint, MI. Their debut collection of poetry, they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming, was the winner of the Joe W. Bratcher Prize and a finalist for the 2026 Leslie Feinberg Award for Trans and Gender-Variant Literature. Often claiming to have been born with a poem written across his chest, he spends much of his time gaming and plays a mean hand of spades. Follow them online at @deziree.the.writer.

Ty Raso (she/they) is a trans character, poet, and teacher. Her work has shared space with POETRY, Electric Literature, The Adroit Journal, Foglifter Journal, The Offing, Black Warrior Review, and elsewhere. She feels most at home near rivers, and they were a 2023-2024 and 2025-2026 Poetry Fellow at the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center, and a 2025 Djanikian Scholar with The Adroit Journal. Her debut full-length collection, MIRROR WOULD BE A BEAUTIFUL NAME FOR A CHILD is forthcoming with Noemi Press in October 2027. You can find her on Instagram @spaghetti_utopia.


The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming by dezireé a. brown


This feature, chosen by Guest Editor Ty Raso, is from they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming by dezireé a. brown (Host Publications 2025).

Instructions for My Funeral

Don’t bury me in no tree, and don’t touch
My chin hair. Burn me with gold leaves
In my crown so they know who I am [a bad
Bitch]. Take some ashes to meld my body
In glass: go ahead, ash blunts on my rose-gold
Rim. Have two funerals: a traditional one
For my mother and a kickback
With my wife. Send anyone who wears black
Home. Cry only if you’re laughing at me
[& how funny I used to be]. Play Doechii
And Solange all night, and don’t stop
Dancing until you sweat out your hair.
Find my wife and present her gifts of gold
Butter cake, fried chicken with lemon pepper,
Trashy american tacos, and hunks of sweet corn. No
Fighting, no preaching, no pain. Plant the rest
Of me to bloom [into an overgrown
Magnolia tree]. Let me sustain the bees
Long after I’ve gone to the fluffiest place
Reserved for dead Black poets, where
There’s an endless supply
Of any kind of potatoes you can imagine.


dr. dez brown (they/he), publishing as dezireé a. brown, is a Black queer nonbinary and transmasculine Pushcart Prize–nominated poet and interdisciplinary scholar, born and raised in Flint, MI. Their debut collection of poetry, they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming, was the winner of the Joe W. Bratcher Prize and a finalist for the 2026 Leslie Feinberg Award for Trans and Gender-Variant Literature. Often claiming to have been born with a poem written across his chest, he spends much of his time gaming and plays a mean hand of spades. Follow them online at @deziree.the.writer.

Ty Raso (she/they) is a trans character, poet, and teacher. Her work has shared space with POETRY, Electric Literature, The Adroit Journal, Foglifter Journal, The Offing, Black Warrior Review, and elsewhere. She feels most at home near rivers, and they were a 2023-2024 and 2025-2026 Poetry Fellow at the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center, and a 2025 Djanikian Scholar with The Adroit Journal. Her debut full-length collection, MIRROR WOULD BE A BEAUTIFUL NAME FOR A CHILD is forthcoming with Noemi Press in October 2027. You can find her on Instagram @spaghetti_utopia.


The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: The Birth of Undoing by Emily Patterson


This feature, chosen by Guest Editor Ty Raso, is from The Birth of Undoing by Emily Patterson (Sheila-Na-Gig Editions 2025).

Asteroidea

You’re mine, she says, stringy arms
trapping my head to her chest.

Mine, with the certainty only a child
can summon, body stretched

over sand-colored sheets like a starfish.
When her father says No, she belongs

to herself
, she strikes with sudden
strength, limbs curled and clinging,

and it’s then that I recognize her
claim: the one that, each morning,

I don’t let myself make. Prying
her arms away gently, I steady

her water-blue eyes with mine,
see the depths of us surface,

know it’s true when I say
yes and yes.


Emily Patterson (she/her) is an award-winning poet and the author of The Birth of Undoing (Sheila-Na-Gig Editions, 2025), as well as three chapbooks. Her work appears in North American Review, June Road Press, SWWIM, The Penn Review, and elsewhere. In 2025, her children’s poem “Small is the Seed” was set to choral music by Katerina Gimon and premiered at Carnegie Hall (Oxford University Press). Emily lives with her family in Columbus, Ohio and works as an editor at Highlights for Children. Read more at emilypattersonpoet.com.

Ty Raso (she/they) is a trans character, poet, and teacher. Her work has shared space with POETRY, Electric Literature, The Adroit Journal, Foglifter Journal, The Offing, Black Warrior Review, and elsewhere. She feels most at home near rivers, and they were a 2023-2024 and 2025-2026 Poetry Fellow at the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center, and a 2025 Djanikian Scholar with The Adroit Journal. Her debut full-length collection, MIRROR WOULD BE A BEAUTIFUL NAME FOR A CHILD is forthcoming with Noemi Press in October 2027. You can find her on Instagram @spaghetti_utopia.