Olivia Olson

From the Moment by Olivia Olson

How was I?”         you asked,                 when you met me? Contained,         I said.                 A slick black stripe, or pillar.         And now? Now,                 here you are, naked as a jaybird,         the spit of                 sand, satisfyingly diffused up         the hourglass,                 and                         out-                 into woodgrains, into         breathing fabric                 and the folds         of roses,                 into the divets of my skin. […]


Seattle by Olivia Olson

Damp, stuck, bone dust—like, I don’t know. Everytime, that’s where I lose it. My trains, my threads break in the most mundane places, in between the halibut steaks and dishwashing liquid. My sister rode a train west, just to see if the fruit fell wilder or if roads can bloom. She learned to make time […]