by Ari Linder
a corset of racetracks pulled tight to the lungs, blurred hedge maze of ash
where a draft of beer is a nickel a pop, the mirrored walls bruise at a glance,
and all the minors that descend from the chandelier, twirling, are your children.
reckless affection, you promised lavender laurels and salt lining each doorway.
I take solace in the clacking ivory crush of tonsils you gifted
unwitting razor blade taste buds peeling words from cocoons
but hedonist is just a euphemism for addict;
playing double dutch with morality, just another ever-echoing;
catcall. tattoo my transition. I’m practicing
asterisked existence*
About the Author
Ari Linder is a mixed Latine genderqueer writer fascinated with the intellectualization of subjects conventionally thought of as ‘non-scholarly’ through autotheoretical and creative-critical writing. They are a class of 2026 student of Writing & Literature at the University of California, Santa Barbara, and a Writing Tutor at Santa Barbara City College. Ari is currently writing an experimental memoir-facing collection of creative nonfiction, poetry, and prose excerpts about processing grief in the wake of familial enmeshment. Concurrently, they are researching the intersections of grief and enmeshment in 21st-century American memoir and autofiction. If you can’t find Ari, they’re probably walking their three-legged dog, Argo.