“you are entitled to one carry-on”, “everyone loves catgirls!!”, & “i don't care if you took too much, come look at the snow” by Romy Rhoads Ewing

you are entitled to one carry-on

My heart swells in a way I can’t pin down–and

Don’t care to–when I watch ferries pass in the Sound,

Crane my neck backwards,

Delayed because I am no longer there,

And you, no longer here.

When I bit into the jacked-up frozen 

QFC chocolate buttercream chocolate whateveritwas,

I'll treasure it because of the way it

Shattered in my mouth, because you were there,

Because we all were, in your apartment,

Crisscross sprawl on your floor, 

Shirley Temples at Cuff later–we never did want

To blend in–

Because you only have one chair, and you don't

Know what you want out of such a big city, but you

Looked at me when I came out of the bathroom,

When we played the Dreamcast on the

Air mattress, all shifting our bodies to

Replicate a coveted double bounce, 

Alchemize a drop in the stomach, 

The most innocent high we could

Conjure, and the soft glow of the TV was

A temporary limelight, and I guess I took 

The idea of myself for granted, or at least

The very physical way I thought we could

All look past if I never stopped being funny,

But I guess I went quiet for a few seconds

Longer than I'd intended, and don't look at me

In that way that I can't let you take with you, 

And I told you you could

Borrow the shoes, the eyeliner,

The dozen things I didn't think I'd need for

The trip, but they might do something for you,

As I wear the heaviest things on my body,

Because I hold love in the potential,

Because my suitcase was swollen with it.

everyone loves catgirls!!

When I saw the tenderness was still

Stuck in your throat–a blaze more than a thaw–

I wanted to claw it out, the way cats nuzzle and purr

But you can't breed out the evisceration, the way kids can't 

Share, the way I still remember your family landline,

The way you let me.

i don't care if you took too much, come look at the snow

Fragments of angels in hail,

The best we can do, squinting

Until we see Orion, forgoing stasis

For ecstasy–for chattering teeth that

Speak glimpses of intimacy, when the

Real deal is on omnipresent, enough

For us to reach out and hold like moths in

The cup of a palm, enough to swallow us 

Whole, flapping our wings 

As youth flickers, then glows.

Romy Rhoads Ewing is a writer and photographer from Sacramento, California. Her work has appeared in HAD, Bullshit Lit, fifth wheel press, BRAWL, Querencia Press, Nowhere Girl Collective, Major 7th Magazine, Y2K Quarterly, and more. Her debut chapbook, please stay, was published by Bottlecap Press in 2024. She is a poetry and nonfiction editor for JAKE and also runs the archival site SACRAMENTO DIRTBAG ARCHIVES. Romy and her work can be found at romyrhoadsewing.xyz.