Myths tell of the hanged man as a fetus floating head-down,
Suspended in some liminal fluid
That fills the seamless space between the past and the future.
We are becoming more ourselves with every breath.
I hear my heart mutter its name in my chest
And then pause, listening for yours.
I do not have a promise for you or a ring to give you.
I cannot even gather words up in a sheaf to leave in a vase on your table.
But I can place each of my hands in each of yours.
I can wait for a seed to unfurl from the dark earth:
When it blooms, I will tell you what it is.
Kat is a writer, artist, and assistant professor of biology/neuroscience, based in Pennsylvania’s Susquehanna Valley. Their non-scientific creative work focuses on queer ecology, trauma and recovery, and possible futures. Their scientific research focuses on dopaminergic neurotransmission. They hold degrees from Oberlin College and the University of Pittsburgh, but have lost the receipts. Instagram: @junkyard_oracle