Drought

by Ori C. Li

I taste the rain. It doesn’t taste like anything : I am here, stuck under this stark sky, walking on its grayness. Can the stars see into this darkness? I am here : I am this drying river flowing to a place where the shore takes no water. Finding my way : is like a lost puppy forever separated from the idea of love. Every time love comes I mistake it for something else. It’s easier that way : to love is a contract. Your life for mine. Your time for mine : I lie to save myself and the future of uncertainties : Everyone is asking me what I am going to do with my life. I don’t know : I don’t think I am capable. I must be one of those people who need the whole world of answers : of answers I seek in every falling leaf. Their whispers tell me : This is all just a little pastime. The body is a confinement of this living experience : I must be unable to come to love because I cannot get out. I am bitter about it : I think : the rain tastes really bitter now. I am really bitter : I am this river.

And I am choking.

Ori C. Li is an undergraduate in MA with interests in writing, drawing, and aimlessly wandering around town. She has been featured on It’s Lit With PhDj.

Illustration by Caitlin Perrigo