Aurora 2021 Mag

Lydia Ingram

If You’re Okay, I’m Okay

You are behind my cheekbones, somehow Pressing outward Yet still my bone You exist in my skull and as my skull Within and without I look in the mirror and I can

See both of us My eyes seeing Your eyes searching mine searching yours, one, but Severed always, too You are escaping through, climbing forth Even as I fold Your face back in And I am collapsing into us As we separate We force my hand to the glass to feel The melting that Will stop short there The coldest sensation of my bones where Your bones ought to be

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