I lost my virginity
to fireflies
strung between
two oak trees
and a stream—
I didn’t scream,
but watched fire
burn in the wood.I walk there now,
barefoot,
find the bug
not like other bugs
striking crooked
match legs against
rotten floor—
a good bug,
just like me
full of spots
on her back
just like me
who lost her leg
to a greedy,
grizzly tree.
She is happy
we found
each other.
She was scared
here, all alone.
We are whispers,
sisters in one life
lived so broken.
Anastasia Jill (she/they) is a queer writer living in
the Southeast United States. She has been nominated for Best American Short
Stories, Best of the Net, and several other honors. Her work has been
featured with Poets.org, Pithead Chapel, apt, Minola Review, Broken Pencil,
and more.
