The formatting of this page may not display properly on small screens, so a downloadable PDF is available.
My hometown & I are entangled in
a fake dating scheme, where I pretend
I want to go back & it pretends to want me there.
I’ve outgrown myself. Dystopian rhetoric:
always too hungry or not hungry enough
& I lost my taste for tourism a long time ago,
but in September, there will be an herb garden
on her windowsill. We have a home together
that doesn’t exist yet & I can see it
in the midsummer basil. Rosemary, sage,
lined up like Marines in a holding formation.
I need someone to pull the yellow cord
on city buses for me. I’m going in circles,
afraid to make a scene, & I think
I’ll spend my entire life either loving
or missing her. My mother says to stop acting
like I’m married, but I’ve never been
patient, waiting for gardens to grow. I always
want it to be September, except when it is.
- Meet the Author
- Latest Posts
amelia nason (she/her) is a next generation indie award finalist, a scholastic award winner, & an alumna of the iowa young writers’ studio, interlochen, fir acres, & new york times summer writing programs. her work is featured in the ice lolly review, full mood magazine, hand picked poetry, eunoia review, the lunar journal, diet water mag, healthline, the aurora journal, & the origami review. her debut chapbook, poems i shouldn’t have written, is out now with bottlecap press. when she isn’t writing, amelia fences competitively for george washington university while studying political science & creative writing.