propranolol* erasure

in handwriting I do not

recognize, ink smudges

bloom into Algernon’s flowers.

I commit paper to memory:

out of film,

the camera rewinds, the bedsheet

releases its grip on

my skirt, the fabric holds

up its seams,

stitching itself back

 together; I’m pulled away from his bedroom,

     falling asleep on the couch

while iceberg lettuce curls up like rollie pollies

tomatoes reabsorb their carnage

bread sutures stab wounds with mayonnaise;

outside the window,

we moonwalk across skid marks;

he invites me over to eat and

he says yes

when I ask him to teach me self-defense.

when I ask him to teach me self-defense

he says yes:

he invites me over to eat and

we moonwalk across skid marks;

outside the window,

bread sutures stab wounds with mayonnaise;

tomatoes reabsorb their carnage

while iceberg lettuce curls up like rollie pollies

     falling asleep on the couch

together. I’m pulled away from his bedroom

stitching itself back

up its seams;

my skirt—the fabric—holds,

releases its grip on

the camera, rewinds the bedsheet.

out of film,

I commit paper to memory,

bloom into Algernon’s flowers,

recognize ink, smudges

in handwriting: “I do not…”

*propranolol: a beta-blocker, (allegedly) prevents the return of unpleasant memories

Viviana Briseno is a junior at USC obtaining a B.A. in Creative Writing and an M.A. in Literary Editing and Publishing. She’s been writing poetry since the seventh grade and editing since the eighth. Ultimately, she hopes to publish a collection of poems and become a poetry editor.

You can follow Viviana on Instagram here.