Poem by Dani Putney

Memento Mori

I saw a crumpled SUV

at the foot of the mudslide.

Bumper formed a chrome parabola

like it was grimacing.

Two ambulances slowed down

ahead of me. I looked

at tiny drops of rain

pummeling my windshield—

Tart mush

of Prozac on my tongue,

empty bottle at my feet,

Dad pleaded,

No, don’t do it, don’t do it—

EMTs approached the SUV

in my rearview mirror,

rain slackened to a drizzle.

I placed a hand

over my heart, remembering

its resonant timbre.

Dani Putney is a queer, non-binary, Filipinx American exploring the West. They're often lost in the kaleidoscope of their intersectional identity. They love to spend time with their mom, who immigrated to the US from Cebu as a picture bride. Presently, Dani is infiltrating a small conservative town full of cowboys in the middle of the Nevada desert. You can find them on Twitter @01000100_Putney.