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POETRY
I Do Not Love Anything That Can't Fit in my Hands
Logan February
Writer of the Month

ullash-borah-605039-unsplash.jpg

after Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib

But then again, I have big hands.
So I go for the little things,
so I can love a lot of things.
My shapeless lucky stone, rusty door-
chain, paperclip for the itch that
comes from inside. My boyfriend's
conch-shaped heart, white as a pearl,
bloodless. It's not that I have a lover,
but what’s the harm in saving some space
for him here inside me? At the core,
isn't everyone trying to hide something,
to smuggle some warm beast in? Like
me, homesick from inside my own
bedroom. I don't show my face until
my eyes are brown again. Goodnight,
window. Goodnight, wall. Goodnight,
little brother. Goodnight, night. I'm sorry
for being so sad. Everyone's
the underdog in their own story.


Logan February is a happy-ish Nigerian owl who likes pizza & typewriters. He is Co-Editor-In-Chief of The Ellis Review, and a book reviewer at Platypus Press' the Wilds. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Raleigh Review, Yemassee, Wildness, Glass, Tinderbox, and more. He is the author of How to Cook a Ghost (Glass Poetry Press, 2017), Painted Blue with Saltwater (Indolent Books, 2018) & Mannequin in the Nude (PANK Books, 2019). Say hello on Instagram & Twitter @loganfebruary.