Spell-Binding by Airea Johnson

The aftermath of a car crash

conversation is spell-binding,

what I mean to say is you folded

me in a zippo lighter, sputtering coughs

words swallowed, metallic throat.

Hey, remember when we went diving

& the ocean was a duvet we got lost in?

What I mean to say is we didn’t know

which way was up, the shore was our

fever dream & what were we talking about?

Oh, I remember—I can’t stop staring at your mouth.

You’re saying Sorry I fucked him; I can’t take you anywhere

& all I know is I’d give anything to feel

the boozy seltzer hitting my neck

like a sparkler making figure eights

or the way our hands touch when I light

your blunts. What I mean to say is once

you lose someone everything becomes a sign,

like you mentioned something about

bread & now gluten makes me sick,

& you miss the lightening bugs in Atlanta,

so now blinking street lights remind me

of you & I’m afraid that everything

I never thought to love will one day leave.

Airea Johnson’s work appears in 'FLARE: The Flagler Review', 'Third Wednesday Magazine', and forthcoming in 'Lucky Jefferson.' In another life she was probably Bieber's 'One Less Lonely Girl', but in this life she creates playlists and listens to her cat wail.