Imogen
by S.J. Bonfoey
As a girl I played clarinet
first chair or I didn’t I
fell in love with your father
on a hay ride in West Virginia or was it
a military base in Maryland
I almost died giving birth to my eldest
so I never had any other children
except you of course
of course you are my daughter
After all you look nothing like
me and what am I
if not an invention
Beneath the ground
images dance past my
closed eyelids Nostalgia
blurred colors
fractured visions
apocryphal memories
What does it mean to be the
architect of your own story
It means…
everything
nothing
and everything
that should have been.
About the Author
S.J. Bonfoey (they/them/theirs) is a genderqueer poet and archivist, raised on the outskirts of the Devil’s Den Nature Preserve in Connecticut. They are a proud alumnus of Sarah Lawrence College, and currently reside in New York City.