Fall 2021


By Kolbe Riney

I learn
how the body
in disorder:

how the heart
when it is dry,
how the hip
when it is broken,
how the brain
when the pupils blow.

It is always you
I turn to
when I ask,
what wishbone
did I snap
to be so lucky,
to tell
the time
in months and years
and blood
and skin
and cracking teeth?

We lay together
this night
in a field
of year-rotating stars,
limbs tangled
in the constellations there;

you lift
your chin
to the sky,
and breathe,

just lucky,
I guess.

Kolbe Riney is a queer poet based in Tucson, Arizona. She graduated in 2021 with a B.S. in Nursing from Northern Arizona University. Her work is featured or forthcoming in Lunch Ticket, Passages North, the West Trade Review, and others. Learn more: https://kolberiney.wixsite.com/website

Fall 2021