Terminal 3, LAX
by Gem Arbogast
I have never been ready
for anything I’m given. Some mornings
I look at the sun and tell you,
Look at the moon! with certainty.
We adopt a southern accent & pretend
it’s not on purpose. I write terribly
some days, in the way people say
I miss you terribly,
not that the product is bad
but that it can’t be helped.
& my favorite sound is your garage
door because it is loud enough to scare
the leaving out of me the mornings
you drive away. Now I take placebo
pills at the kitchen sink & they help me
talk to your parents when asked
if I’m alright & they say I will not
always take the dog’s footsteps for yours,
the sun for the moon, pills for something I’m not.
The curbside area is for immediate loading and unloading
only. The ends justify the means.
Gem Arbogast has been in love with words for as long as she can remember. She is a 17-year-old queer poet and songwriter from Seattle, passionate about helping everyone feel seen in art. Gem has recently been published for the first time in Spindrift Journal, and you can find more of her writing at gemarbogast.substack.com.