Two Night Stand
︎︎︎ Lana Valdez
︎ Jan 9, 2024
I rearrange the pictures on your fridge by darkness of hair,
you laying in the grass, waiting for someone to tell you to stop,
you going to the stomach doctor.
I’ve always wanted to shield you from this, but it’s too late.
You going by yourself to the movies in high school,
crying in the mirror as your freckles disappear, one by one,
waiting for the first friends you ever had,
the boys you still talk about in your sleep.
I rearrange the pictures on your fridge by eye color,
when they’re vibrating with fear and when they’re hazel,
and wonder why you put up pictures of these things.
I curl up next to you when you wake screaming for a stranger,
for me, and after tonight,
I will not hear from you again.
you laying in the grass, waiting for someone to tell you to stop,
you going to the stomach doctor.
I’ve always wanted to shield you from this, but it’s too late.
You going by yourself to the movies in high school,
crying in the mirror as your freckles disappear, one by one,
waiting for the first friends you ever had,
the boys you still talk about in your sleep.
I rearrange the pictures on your fridge by eye color,
when they’re vibrating with fear and when they’re hazel,
and wonder why you put up pictures of these things.
I curl up next to you when you wake screaming for a stranger,
for me, and after tonight,
I will not hear from you again.
Lana Valdez is a poetess and naive filmmaker based in Los Angeles. Her work can be found in Poetry Breakfast, The Willawaw Journal, Minute Magazine, and others. Her chapbook, THE RED DOLL, is available via Bottlecap Press, and her short films are available on her YouTube channel.