by Hannah Grieco

Bilirubin like my heart used to
rise, code yellow despite these
worn-out thumps, these

elevated platelets, buttery
veins, weighted skin clinging
a depression of dermis.

When did I start feeling so old?
When did sleep become thin
become a test run

a preview, an old woman’s
afternoon nap, short and then
long, and then drugged, and then

hours of foggy wandering, when
did I start feeling so tired?
When did I stop looking

to you, looking for that
moment when the skin around
your eyes creased, your eye-smile

my love, those lines said: my
girl, that was me laughing
at your jokes, that was my

heart rising, red, an escalating
frequency of thumps pounding
yours/us, yours/us.

Hannah Grieco is a writer in Washington, DC. Find her online at hgrieco.com and on Instagram/Bluesky @writesloud.