Here, in the light from the kitchen window I can see the short, white-blonde strands glinting in between the coarser black ones all wiry and resilient, like weeds. I cannot stop bragging about them: the round and bony knees, shins speckled over with scabs and dry patches, long scar, purple bruise, strong bones. I lay them across couches, curbsides, knees spread to make them larger, all this to say, look at what I have grown. Moving muscular, stout and strong like trees, waves rippling beneath the skin. I let them announce my presence in a room. They precede me, stride big over pavement, tree branch, concrete step. They’re my mother’s legs: soft thighs, lumpy knees, bruise easily. They bring me to all the loves I’ll ever need. Look how expansive I have become: legs moving to meet you, calf against calf, warm, dense, something to hold onto.
Beeper Peddle is a writer and healer living on the East Coast. She lives with her partner and their beloved soul puppy. Beeper writes about sorrows, lies, and deep loves. When you read her work, you will dip down into her heart and end up in all manner of body parts. Should you find yourself reflected in these words, it is merely coincidence; however, it does not surprise her you share the same heart. Find her at bethpeddle.com and @beeperpeddle on Twitter and Instagram
Kimberly Ramos is a queer Filipina writer from Missouri. They are currently an undergraduate of philosophy and creative writing at Truman State University. Their work has been published in Southern Humanities Review, Jet Fuel Review, and West Trade Review, among others. They wererecently nominated for Best New Poets by Whale Road Review and declared a finalist for the Eastern Iowa Review chapbook contest.