Emma Younger
4 AM Vitals
i haven’t been honest with myself
but i have been so
sorry for myself
this whole damn time, speeding
up the mourning process, or slowing
down the healing. sorry when at 4 am
vitals are taken & the nurse is so
generously gentle with her hands
& sorry when the bright blue tourniquet
pinches & when i don’t flinch &
when she has to try the other arm.
i want a bedtime story
& a forehead kiss.
she checks my pulse,
an ally in my hurtling
comet of complete isolation.
i tell her that it is not the first time
i have felt so lithium bleached. she blinks,
“is there anything you need from me?”
& i want to ask her to tuck me back into my
sheet thin plastic cocoon. i am a moth
at a damp beach, wings covered with sand.
so I ask for someone to know me.
but i have been so
sorry for myself
this whole damn time, speeding
up the mourning process, or slowing
down the healing. sorry when at 4 am
vitals are taken & the nurse is so
generously gentle with her hands
& sorry when the bright blue tourniquet
pinches & when i don’t flinch &
when she has to try the other arm.
i want a bedtime story
& a forehead kiss.
she checks my pulse,
an ally in my hurtling
comet of complete isolation.
i tell her that it is not the first time
i have felt so lithium bleached. she blinks,
“is there anything you need from me?”
& i want to ask her to tuck me back into my
sheet thin plastic cocoon. i am a moth
at a damp beach, wings covered with sand.
so I ask for someone to know me.
Biography
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Emma Younger (she/her/hers) is originally from Portland, OR, now writing and reading in Chicago, IL. She is currently interested in cats, folk music, sparkling water, and the mirco and the macro—where the individual meets the universal in her work. Past work at Stone of Madness, with upcoming work at Hooligan Magazine. @emmarain27 on insta. @emmaraincloud on twitter.
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