With enough years of practice,
I easily store six days
of outfits in a single backpack pocket
Crumpled five dollar bills tucked in
bunched socks stuffed in
every jacket pocket—-
I pray to the gods of Just in Case
of What If
of What We’ve Had to Do Without It
Most of the orange safety bottles
hold hoarded prescriptions
needed but rationed—
yet some hold thumbtacks
coarse salt
old to-do’s as scrolls,
as fortunes
Nothing unconsidered,
an ex’s birth certificate stored
with the lack of fulfillment
of medical records requests
from the institution
where I was unfree
on my sweet sixteen
I leave this baggage behind,
filling space with tarot cards
I bought my best friend
three Christmases before her last.
She died on my little brother’s birthday
so I pack something he gave me
in the before times
willing this magic enough
to extend the lives of those left
in my usual and expected absence.
I pack eyebrow tint
but never concealer
I am trying to look older
not prettier…
I don’t want to be spoken to,
just want to look alive enough
no one tries to change that. Hot
pink hairbrush unsheathes
cold pink plastic knife, serrated
blade too dull
to slice bread, to defend
A memory aid, a false sense of safety.
A tube of San Marzano tomato paste
contrastive enough from toothpaste
they won’t get confused
When my depression creeps
Mom’s sauce recipe
far exceeds the importance of
brushing my teeth.
Caidyn Bearfield (she/her) is a queer Italian-American poet from Columbus, OH. Her debut chapbook, INIZIARE, was published by River Dog Press in 2024. She has featured all across the Midwest at festivals, museums, punk shows, and more. Caidyn is also a peer and legislative advocate for current and former foster youth who enjoys making anything from crafts to cakes to change.