on sun-days

i slink down to the lakeside

to skitter by the water searching for rocks

my skin tight with sun, 

smoothing soft pink pebbles 

with my palms, 

pressing them in deep

and popping them through my skin

to fill me up 

i wish you would pour over me

and send me dancing through the drain

i’m so tired of learning

i cannot be this daughter of God 

you want me to be

there is more God in 

a palm full of stones or

a backyard of grackles

filling the forest with noise

than in these empty spires 

because all i want is to scream like a little kid

i want to wear high heels 

and clack my way through the city

i want heads craning over shoulders

but i want to be small

while i do it

it’s the only way out 

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Ari Zimmerman is a writer and editor currently residing in Tiohtià:ke. She completed a BA in English literature and philosophy from McGill University, and is now pursuing an MA in English literature at Concordia University. Her work is influenced by her experience growing up in rural Ontario, and explores queerness, illness, loneliness and madness. She’s fond of writing about all things weird, uncanny and disgusting.