death of abstraction


Previously published by fifth wheel press

i’ve been dreaming of the world coming to a close.
my mind becomes violent when left to itself.
the last, the world shaking itself apart,

rupturing its spine in order to cleave what is
no longer necessary. you understand, i was
on the second floor, cowering beneath myself.

i watched through shaking fingers, a cage
of sight, the world drop from under me.
the question of deserving unspoke itself.

i could not find who i was looking for.
the thought of survival fled. you must
understand, i had no thought of anyone

but myself. if that is a lie,
it is one my tongue
shaped for itself.

the sound of connection flooded
my senses awake. my spine
stretched flat, a rarity of length.

i shook the dream from my skin,
reminded myself of the fact of
living. i felt a life crawl over my own,

and i frightened. i rose. i reminded myself
of the reality of life. i tended to it, allowed it
to spread as it would. i asked light to stretch

itself across my vision,
settled for warmth
when none would come.

i tested my footing. i remained upright. the fact of
life reminded itself of me. i placed my presence
as something of importance. i rose. I rose.

About the Author

BEE LB is an array of letters, bound to impulse; a writer creating delicate connections. they have called any number of places home; currently, a single yellow wall in Michigan. they have been published in Revolute Lit, Roanoke Review, and Figure 1, among others. they are the 2022 winner of FOLIO’s Editor’s Prize for Poetry, as well as the Bea Gonzalez Prize for Poetry. they are a poetry reader for Capsule Stories. their portfolio can be found at

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: