
A love letter to American zillennials before we were old enough to strapon our most comfortable shoes and standin line at the polls, we were old enoughto cut george bush’s face out of our scholastic readers and colorall over it with school-issued crayolas,to tape it to the corner of our desksand sit down on it—kiss my…

passing strangers on the streetI am looking now, for eyesto reflect my mourning peering into hearts for the familial taste of fear swept to the corners, griefburied like shrapnel tell me the names of your loves, the oneswhose terror has split open who is left swimming the deepest hue—have you called them yet? in a passing glance we must discern what’s lodged and where are we flying the…