i was about to move, get up, shut your bedroom door and tiptoe away, when you hugged me to you tight, as close as you’ve been since birth.
you’re asleep, now not asking me to stay,
but holding me here with you.
your little snores, an alchemical lullaby.
with mirrored lips, we borrow breath from each other’s lungs, from our ancestors,
and from those whose ancestors we will be.
with every breath,
you heal their traumas
rooted and rotting in my chest,
and call closer those who will make us ancient ghosts.
and then in your dreams, a place i cannot see, something moves you and you move away from me.
Vic Nogay is an emerging writer of poetry and flash fiction; her work tends to explore small traumas, misremembrances, and Ohio, where she is from. Her work appears in The Daily Drunk. After earning her English/Creative Writing degree from Denison University in 2010, she discovered a passion for animal welfare working as a humane agent. Her return to writing is a personal reclamation.
How writing has affected Vic's wellbeing: "I am a mom of two little girls, and often I forget I’m a person outside of that delicious, all-consuming role. But writing is all for me. It feels sinfully luxurious to have something all to myself again. Writing makes me feel confident, rich, and worthy. In becoming a mother four years ago, I lost a part of myself. And that’s okay, necessary even. I’m grateful now to be rediscovering those parts of me that I laid down for a while. I have been called to write again."