the popcorn storm of june 2020 i thought it was snowing on this night in june but after stepping outside i found it was a whole lot of popcorn. some sort of popcorn machine in the sky. up there, maybe there were gods watching a movie or just a device gone awry. i take a handful from the porch & stuff it in my mouth. i woke up from a dream where my first boyfriend would not leave my house. i told him i had to write an important story for the newspaper. i ignored him but there he was with his thick glasses & his pepperoni smell. he seemed to be getting bigger-- taller. a different scale than me. a giant man. the popcorn unsalted & unbuttered. little puffs of air. still warm. my hands cupped & full. i fill my pockets with popcorn. i sit on the stoop & watch it come down. i thought by now i had erased him from my dreamscape. i thought my cells had regenerated so many times & none of his fingerprints lasted. in the dream. he stood huge over me. i was like a doll & i pleaded that he would just leave me alone. i was small. i was a girl. why why why. hasn't it been long enough? contrary to de beauvoir i was not born but rather i slip back into girlhood. the stoop is concrete & sturdy. the sky is turning indigo. street filling with popcorn. i think of the word "yellow" & the popcorn me & him ate at that movie we went to. how the butter soaked into every single kernel & how he tried to feed me. he said. "open" & i opened. he said "open" & i alway opened. there he was standing over me always. my hair full of popcorn. his hands cupping my face like a bowl to drink from. back inside, i fill a jar with the popcorn & label the jar "popcorn storm in june 2020." i think of the snow six or seven months away. everything moving in circles. a kernel far above responding to heat. a kernel inside me healing over glossy & amber just to turn brief & soft again. i wrap covers around me. i am not his, not right now. light from the popcorn glowing from the window in the corner of my room.