Night, with day behind, dredging up the sepia awe of being alive.
After all no reason to expect this moment, which could’ve been anything but calm, which could’ve been nothing (Earth may always be otherwise). But instead—free in air, rehearsing joy in real time; body lightly losing its full-speed terror, half-headlong, like sailing through windshield after the crash’s finished. Then silence, living; totality, moonlight.
After all no reason to expect this moment, which could’ve been anything but calm, which could’ve been nothing (Earth may always be otherwise). But instead—free in air, rehearsing joy in real time; body lightly losing its full-speed terror, half-headlong, like sailing through windshield after the crash’s finished. Then silence, living; totality, moonlight.
Lilia Marie Ellis is a trans woman writer from Houston. Her work has appeared in publications including The Nashville Review and trampset. Follow her on Instagram/Twitter @LiliaMarieEllis!