Sydney Vogl

according to The Lesbian Bar Project, there are only 21 lesbian bars left in the US

meanwhile my uterus is empty. i’m closer to god
sitting on a curb in the mission & calling my ex
more than anywhere else. i want to be a city girl
but my hair still smells like august, like a fire
cleaning out the suburbs. tell me this wasn’t
your favorite song growing up. where the girl
straddles the roof of her parent’s house & maps
her escape. take a left before the blonde boy’s house,
past the football fields & the ice cream shop, run
towards the empty desert. i didn’t know yet
i was already a ghost. ten years later i’m running
out of places to put my mouth. my stomach an aquarium
of lime peels. you must understand that feeling.
don’t you have a picture of a girl buried somewhere in your ribs?
didn’t your mother teach you better than to keep sorrow this way?
you’re supposed to walk it & burn it.