'Lover, Your Laundry on the Line' by Austin Tremblay



If lost, become a billow in a dream, a sheet

hanging on the line, whipping itself back

to the pins. Tell yourself it’s just a sky

without secrets, that you cannot burst

from plain beauty. Make it a color unnamed,

only approximated. Lean into the yawning

light wandering through the yard. You know

this place. You have never been here. It is

every place you’ve ever been. The edge

of dark. Sunset, a particular kind of nakedness.

Yet I am the one with nothing

but a wide-brimmed hat and a sweating

glass. Boots split, shirt undone, you holler

and spin. Gingham universe, skirt twirling

outside of time, until it isn’t clear what is

sky and what is sung and what is summer.



Austin Tremblay would like to cede his biography space to a reminder that: Black lives matter, science is real, love is love, women’s rights are human rights, and no human is illegal. If you’re curious about what Austin is up to, you can visit him virtually at atblay.com.