​​H E R M E N E U T I C   C H A O S   J O U R N A L

charlie lynn


The closest thing to dying is  

slicing a plant’s  
stem. You say X-Acto knife
​We hold one half of bud at crook
of elbows and mash it.  

​Our arms grow tired. They hang deflated 
We floss our teeth with
root hairs. Curl stems around our necks
and tie double knots.  

​You want to die
like a mouth when it has nothing to chew. 
The bees rest in your hair tightly
winding your recall. Pick them out!
​I can’t I’ve lost primacy.  

Photosynthesis works twice every year.
One. It is when you put your throat
on my chest. Two. It is when you look
​both left and right before crossing
the road.  

​I will die near you but not in love.  

Charlie Lynn is currently a student at Western Washington University, working on her BA in Creative Writing. She runs a publication called Gap Tooth, and has been published in Pathos and The Finger. Her work is forthcoming in the newest edition of Skydeer Helpking.