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.