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.

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THREE POEMS by TIM LIVINGSTON

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TWO POEMS by MEGAN WILLIAMS