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by James Merenda In my hometown there is a beach full of the children I have been, who died clutching the farewell I wrote them, a dearjohn for every one. They scour the text for a hint, a subtextual thread to prove that they, perhaps alone survived our term together. I am narrating when I notice the letter in my hand. Unfamiliar handwriting but drowsy lucidity says it’s mine. I know but deny. I am also an imagined death in the catalog. I took a name appropriate to my exit route. If it’s too direct to say I killed my imaginary friends, then say I staged house fires they didn’t escape, that I played the peculiar child waiting to be found in the backyard, telling my parents when they ask what I’m doing and how I got there I’m waiting for it to be safe, pointing to the open bedroom window.  photo by Clark Hartman James Merenda (they/them) is a queer & nonbinary poet and community organizer who resides in Boston, MA. They were a selected participant in Winter Tangerine’s March 2019 intensive, and their work has appeared in PANK, THRUSH Poetry Journal, and Passages North. James first poetry collection, Washed Clean of Summer’s Dust was named a finalist for YesYes Books’ 2019 Pamet River Prize. Follow them on Twitter: @james_merenda. Comments are closed.
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