KD
  • Home
  • About
    • Contributors List
    • Book Reviews
    • Award Nominations
    • Support
    • Contact
  • Press
  • Issues
    • Issue 51
    • Issue 50
    • Issue 49
    • Issue 48
    • Issue 47
    • Issue 46
    • Issue 45
    • Issue 44
    • Issue 43
    • Issue 42
    • Issue 41
    • Issue 40
    • Issue 39
    • Issue 38
    • Issue 37
    • Issue 36
    • Issue 35
    • Issue 34
    • Issue 33
    • Issue 32
    • Issue 31
    • Issue 30
    • Issue 29
    • Issue 28
    • Issue 27
    • Issue 26
    • Issue 25
    • Issue 24
    • Issue 23
    • Issue 22
    • Issue 21
    • Issue 20
    • Issue 19
    • Issue 18
    • Serenity
    • Issue 17
    • The Audio Room
    • Issue 16
    • Issue 15
    • Issue 14
    • Play It Again
    • Issue 13
    • Issue 12
    • Issue 11
    • Issue 10
    • Issue 9
    • Issue 8
    • Issue 7
    • Issue 6
    • Hand to Mouth
    • Issue 5
    • Issue 4
    • Issue 3
    • Issue 2
    • Issue 1
  • Submissions

Noreen Ocampo

In which I am cast in a Studio Ghibli film

I am drawn in a side character’s uncertain lines, cursed
to flimsy ankles & tipping over. I still bike to school
 
because I have to, because Mom & Pop are running
a florist-bakery-café combination. I smell like burnt butter
 
& coffee beans, which makes everyone forget that we also
sell flowers. I am seventeen & having a quarter-life crisis
 
that only pays me in my best friend’s exasperation
as he sits in front of me in class. He sighs like he practices
 
his perfect exhales in the mirror & is drawn with the charisma
of a main character whose clothes are always
 
suspiciously crisp. I have been in love with him my whole life.
But he’s stuck in a love triangle with the class president
 
& the news co-anchor whose teeth literally twinkle
when she smiles, so I’m surprised when he bikes home
 
with me. One day, he tells me he’s set on moving oceans
away after graduation & I pause in the middle of the street
 
because there are only twenty-three minutes until the credits roll
& I’m not sure how we’ll patch this up in time. He laughs,
 
sparkling with cherry blossoms & afternoon light, &
for a moment, we’re more than a collection of penciled-in lines.

Biography

Picture
Noreen Ocampo (she/they) is a Filipina American writer and poet based in Atlanta. She is the author of the forthcoming micro-chapbook, Not Flowers (Variant Literature, 2022), and her poems can also be found in {m}aganda Magazine, Taco Bell Quarterly, and Hobart, among others. She edits for Marías at Sampaguitas and the COUNTERCLOCK blog and studies at Emory University. Say hi on Twitter @maybenoreen!
back to issue
​Next Poem →
Picture
ISSN 2639-426X
© COPYRIGHT 2018-2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
  • Home
  • About
    • Contributors List
    • Book Reviews
    • Award Nominations
    • Support
    • Contact
  • Press
  • Issues
    • Issue 51
    • Issue 50
    • Issue 49
    • Issue 48
    • Issue 47
    • Issue 46
    • Issue 45
    • Issue 44
    • Issue 43
    • Issue 42
    • Issue 41
    • Issue 40
    • Issue 39
    • Issue 38
    • Issue 37
    • Issue 36
    • Issue 35
    • Issue 34
    • Issue 33
    • Issue 32
    • Issue 31
    • Issue 30
    • Issue 29
    • Issue 28
    • Issue 27
    • Issue 26
    • Issue 25
    • Issue 24
    • Issue 23
    • Issue 22
    • Issue 21
    • Issue 20
    • Issue 19
    • Issue 18
    • Serenity
    • Issue 17
    • The Audio Room
    • Issue 16
    • Issue 15
    • Issue 14
    • Play It Again
    • Issue 13
    • Issue 12
    • Issue 11
    • Issue 10
    • Issue 9
    • Issue 8
    • Issue 7
    • Issue 6
    • Hand to Mouth
    • Issue 5
    • Issue 4
    • Issue 3
    • Issue 2
    • Issue 1
  • Submissions