Here

In late summer, heat

and humidity smother the city.

I am in a new apartment

somewhere by the highway.

I am alone on the third floor

undressing in the sunlight pooling

through my bedroom window

as the wind weaves through the trees,

shaking the leaves like confetti,

a celebration, a welcome.

I slip into the bathtub and

water sloshes over the edge

I have underestimated the space

I needed for myself—

my body, soft mounds,

islands in the warm water,

I notice the bruise blooming on my thigh,

how what we carry can mark us

even with no memory of the impact.

Three flights, the maze of boxes,

the building of a new home, here,

though it has only been a few days.

Here, the trains call out morning and evening,

but they do not sound lonesome.

Here, I am a silhouette in my kitchen window,

hands buried in soft suds, my belly fed

my body bathed, and autumn just beginning

to take hold of the trees.

Abby Bland (she/they) is an award-winning Kansas City writer and performer whose work has appeared in Gyroscope Review, Ghost City Review, and elsewhere. She was awarded the Central Avenue 2024 Poetry Prize and nominated for Best Poet in KC via The Pitch in 2024. Her one-person spoken word show Godzilla’s Not A Dinosaur took home “Best of Venue” at the 2023 KC Fringe and she was also awarded Best Poet in KC via The Pitch in 2023. Her debut chapbook The Odds Against a Starry Cosmos was published with Perennial Press in 2020. They’re on Instagram @applestoabby and you can read more of their work at abbyblandpoetry.com.