name me a beginning without an end. name methe end. name me a suture of the past; historyor a wound. name me the lifelong scar.this life a dream lived through. this daya puddle of yolk. the events leading here,an impossible map. an empty cloth.two hands in place of a cup. two eyes openingand seeing nothing. the distance between fearand stillness; a body buzzing.a shallow cut producing nothing so much as water;a wound of preparation. name me bloodshy.name me heavy-handed. name me spillage; overflow.name me suture; or lack of its need. birth; a closed beginning.held in absence. sterile room, bloodied gloves.name the beginning what it was; the birth of a life sentence.the start of an ending. the sun rising to meet me,not the other way around. this was never my story to tellbut i can’t manage to quiet; to quell it.mirror: my mother’s fear; father’s bones.mirror: my mother’s eyes; father’s fear.mirror: my mother’s anger; father’s resentment.mirror; my unwanted body. body; the beginning of a cage.there is no beginning without an end.name me beginning. name me the end.
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, After the Pause, and Roanoke Review, among others. they are the 2022 winner of the Bea Gonzalez Prize for Poetry. their portfolio can be found at twinbrights.carrd.co