For 6 months last year
I stopped wearing a bra.
After 11 years of wearing a bra almost every single day,
I starting pulling my shirts and dresses over a completely bare upper half:
No lifting, uncomfortable straps.
For 6 months
I did this.
I was in a state of perpetual stress, and wanted to test a theory:
That wildness was a quality
that I could inject into a personality
that was otherwise over-analytic and list-obsessed.
My spirit was searching.
Vibrations of your voice were
felt from my gestation, creating
the first song between us.
The smile in your eyes greets me,
as I lay on your chest and inhaled your
scent an echo of our first note.
You share stories of relatives known only
through memories. At the age of three,
you got into some moonshine and ran
through the yard, stick in hand
and mind in flight.
My sister's beauty lies in a reserved comfort,
and no one in my family stands for her humour,
the one place where she encourages no sibling rivalry,
as the chunk of us bear the mark of a god on our faces;
We are cacti, imprisoning joy in our ragged cheeks,
and never the angels of good cheer to a dreary family.
My sister never begins each day without pulling strings,
with which she creates sunrise within our hearts;
Even while disaster steadily knocks on our doors,
She reels out peals and rolls of raucous laughter
and sunset hides in the forest of its birth.
And you watch her, keenly
Going from one to another
Seeking for advice on how to navigate the cold and unwelcoming waters ahead of her
Others had gone and found their different ways to the other side
Through these same waters
But she was still dithering
Unsure and unwilling to take the dive
Watching others before and behind her, go on, before her
Through the cold, unwelcoming waters
Trigger Warning: death and blood
Stephanie sat cross-legged in the standing shower aboard the VIKENGRASS. The water
sprinkled over her body as she kept her eyes closed, trying to meditate and alleviate the pain that
came on this day every year. It was the anniversary of the accident that took the lives of both of
her parents, having her leg and finger amputated, along with permanently deafening her. All
because their self-driving car stopped working and drifted into oncoming traffic.
She opened her eyes to be met with darkness, alarming her. The lights came back on in a
moment, and the room shook. Stephanie quickly stood up and turned off the water, jumping out
of the shower and drying herself off. She grabbed her clothes and slipped them on, returning to
her living quarters as soon as she could.
The VIKENGRASS shuttered and groaned as explosions rocked the inner hull. The lights
in the hallway dimmed, flickering subsequently with the detonations. The crew scrambled from
their living quarters as sirens blared overhead, red lights flashing along the tops of the black
walls. It was against protocol to be woken this way, as a member aboard the bridge was
designated to wake them, preparing the entire crew to deal with the emergency.