By BEA AGBI
With words from Natalie Diaz’ “Like Church” and Danez Smith’s “Trees!”
the hospital’s radiology and imaging floor
I took a look at my bones
and the x-ray confirmed what I already knew –
that these branches are palms,
this skin bark, no difference between breath
and chlorophyll save the distinctions
of time. When I’m no longer standing
Still waiting for a word from the old gods
When I’ve given up on keeping my lips clenched
and let the wind fill my cheeks
with the pine needles it blows my way
When my love and I let go of sight
and offer each other the melon seeds
we keep under our tongues
as new eyes
and When I stop putting lotion on these cold cracked hands
and let the lines of split skin extend past my knuckles
Until I forget the temptation of color, meaning
there is no abundance, think
a trick of the light, like how an x-ray
makes bones seem a bleached white
when they are bark
surrounded by flesh that will –
once it’s done with the business of pink
and red and blue and purple and breath –
let go of time and give into the seasons. Alternatively, green
Writer | Bea Agbi ’26 | bagbi26@amherst.edu
Editor | Sam Huang ’26 | lhuang26@amherst.edu