Ryan Norman (he/him) is a queer writer from New York living in the Hudson Valley. Ryan enjoys swimming in mountain lakes and climbing tall things. He is a contributing editor of creative nonfiction with Barren Magazine. His work has appeared in X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine, Black Bough Poetry, Hobart, Maudlin House, and elsewhere. He has two chapbooks I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A BOND GIRL (Daily Drunk Press) and CICADA SONG (Finishing Line Press). You can find him on Twitter @RyanMGNorman or ryanmgnorman.com

***

Delicate

His hands held a bird,
nesting in palms
creased with lines heavy

in work. Its wet eyes blinked
black glass,
damp with a mournful song.

 Its feathers, greased for a day
of flight stopped short
by the broadside of a barn;

they swapped oils, foreigners
exchanging gifts at a chance meeting,
each needing the other

without knowing.
A mended wing
full of breadth,

its bones complex and hollowed
to breathe in flight. His fingers,
blood and marrow, delicate

despite their strength,
raised a bird, red chest beating,
to fly again.

First featured in All Guts No Glory and in Ryan’s chapbook Cicada Song.

***

If You Say Anything, Say You’ll Return

All this time and I’m still obsessed with balls
flying into leather pouches, the slap

of cowhide with red stitches
bleeding into padded palms: the sting

 stronger than ocean-water eyes.
But have you noticed it’s the same

sound only better when you
chuck a ball into the surf just

 to realize the ocean isn’t a catcher?
It’s just tossing water and sand and baseball

 cards that I lost on the pier. And I can
tell it’s my card because the water

is strawberry pink like the frozen
ice I used to drink in the stadium

 before it all turned into dead memories
resurrected in the Spring;

 when you’d take me on the train
and we’d pass the Hudson as the

 water brined with every mile closer
to the ocean. Every wave that broke

on the shore just another question—
Will Darryl Strawberry come back to me? 

My prized possession. But to you
it was just cardboard that could be

replaced. And now it’s just washed up
somewhere with all the other sea 

trash. And memories are like
baseball but better.

First featured in Stanchion Issue 6

***

I Always Wanted to be a Bond Girl

My head breaks waves, but the water
rolls under itself, curls

into the sand like tiny fists
that bead up my chest, pounding

pearls of light.
That water drip, crystalline shatter spilling

down my torso.
Am I a Bond Girl now?

My hips check the surf, foam
crawls up my back. I run

my hand through my hair and the sun
flares your lens. Is this slow-motion

for you, too? The sea grabs my waist.
Are you still watching?

First featured in Ryan’s chapbook, I Always Wanted to be a Bond Girl.