june bug

makes its way underground/ into the interior skeleton of the house/ up through the vents/ flickers
in the space between the cereal box walls/ hums dim next to me ear/ leads me to the fridge like a
sound loud laser pointer/ I open white light/ stare at illuminated reflection in the glass of the
kitchen window/ take out the honey bear/ trace a circle out to the perimeters of our tiny tile floor/
and trap myself inside/ starfished in false light/ sacrifice to a breathing capsule/ fridge sings gemma
geminorum/ in an earth wide reflection pool/ flip to my stomach/ where I lay/ rotate myself
around like spinning record/ dragging my pointer finger through the sweet/ stand/ use it to stick
figure outline my body with the laws of attraction so that when I rage against the dark I glow loud/
line of bugs strung together by sugar/ and they will fly me to a milk made moon


Amanda Pendley is a queer twenty-one-year-old writer from Kansas City who is currently studying Creative Writing and Publishing at the University of Iowa. Her recent and forthcoming publications include Homology Lit, Vagabond City Lit,Savant Garde Literary Magazine, and The Shore. She often finds inspiration in Lorde songs, movement, and Xavier Dolan films.