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The Imperfect Present

Lot's Wife by Keianna Lewis (New York, 18)

9/24/2023

 
​I am addicted to hunger, which makes me sicker in the head than I am in the body. I must lull & love
myself to sleep to ward off the night terrors, where I

see you, asleep,

​in your glasses on my bed, and suddenly I am happy I bought a double. it’s my fault for thinking I could
live on joy and lemonade alone,
​
​and for letting you tell me about how much you love your mother. even in my sleep, I crave fullness, and
wander through the open walls of my dollhouse room into the expanse of grass and

weed, warm and unsettled the way I remember my chest. I will look back and see you on your feet against
the burning wall.

​I think it would be nice to be a pillar of salt. save the socks on my feet, I am bare. & I am hungry enough
to swallow myself whole.






Keianna Lewis is a storyteller from New York, now studying Linguistics and Literature at McGill University in Montreal.

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