Amanda Pendley

crack me open and I will pour out lemonade

I quarter-turn into a sliver of light
and crack lantern ribs open to half-sun
and there are still coal mines in my chest
but we are slowly extracting the good from me

and I believe the leg extension is an olive branch
and the supporting limb a lamppost
gravity sinks its palms into the soil of a roll-through
in bent knees and back arched in grass tunnel
and I am no longer longing for the absence
of someone to look up to in tree nest

I am origin point of my own shaking feet
there are no more corsets to be forced together
I break without bleeding
willingly

________________________________________________________________________________________

Amanda Pendley is a queer twenty-year-old writer from Kansas City who is currently studying creative writing and publishing at the University of Iowa. Her recent and forthcoming publications include The Hellebore, Vagabond City Lit, Savant Garde Literary Magazine and Storm of Blue Press. She often finds inspiration in Lorde songs, movement and obscure art history.