The priest said that he died alone.
Timeline laid out like his body:
death slumbering beneath 
my scars, waiting
for the slip of the razor or the swan
dive out the window I once broke
when I threw my head against it –
each day beyond 
a careful exit
dawns fractured, I knew
and such work in salvaging.
I watched the broken sky 
through
the glass, remembering
the future, how the earth 
would reclaim him
and how he always said I have wings.

Published 14th April, 2024.

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Hannah Page has been published in Tupelo Quarterly,Lit, Cathexis Northwest Press, Another Chicago Magazine, Eunoia Review (upcoming), and Rising Phoenix Review (upcoming). She earned her MFA from Columbia University School of the Arts in 2022.
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