By Brooke Kenney
I drank so much coffee, my brain detached from my spinal cord and I became a hallucination that sat and watched myself in each multiverse (there are more than infinite) and in a sealed thick white envelope, delivered by a carrier pigeon, I was handed peace that was as crisp as teeth know an apple and I thought to myself, maybe drugs aren’t as bad as they say they are because I feel like I’m sinking in a warm cup of tea that will soothe my throat so that I might start singing again which would be making art and I haven’t made art since the last time I made love and now I remember how this multiverse is one I must experience (suffer through) because his hands don’t cup my face, his thumb doesn’t trace the shadow of my cheek bones in other realities in quite the same way and while I may be free from this pain of losing him in another realm, I need to feel his hands, his weight— this is why I take drugs, this is why I don’t sugar my coffee.
Brooke Kenney is a graduate student at California State University, Chico, pursuing her MA in English with a concentration in creative writing. Brooke’s poetry has been featured in The SandPiper Review, The Manzanita, and The Blue Route. When her nose is not stuck in her books, she’s hiking, working out, or enjoying a martini with an extra olive. You can reach out to Brooke on her Instagram for any inquiries @brookekenney.