A POEM by ELLY BELLE
Banana Hour
between 2 and 3 pm every day
a man comes through
to give us boneless yellow flowers—
I mean fruit,
no seeds just wonder.
what will I get
today?
will this one
curve
more than the last?
awaken something
in my buds
that breathes me
a little easier
today?
Banana Hour,
they call it. I need my fill.
can use it as
a phone
or something
to sweeten
bread.
every day,
a new thing that is the same thing
to look forward to.
every day, something
to wait for.
Elly Belle (they/them) is a multiply-disabled queer and trans writer from Brooklyn, who takes puns, friendship, and mycelium networks very seriously. In general, they are always foraging for hope. Elly writes about coming from generational trauma and abuse, and everything it takes to unlearn unhealthy “love” through that lens—aiming to breathe new life and care into others who seek to describe and understand their own healing processes. Recent and forthcoming publications include pieces in no, dear magazine, Dead End zine, and in an upcoming trans anthology from Jessica Kingsley Publishers. You can often find them at readings in Brooklyn.