Self-Portrait in a 2004 Toyota
by K. Kannan
it trembles, reverses for a few seconds before lifting into the air. us: a verb. us: arms encircled
loosely around each other, in the backseat, as I tell her we must look biblical–by which I mean
we must look like our fathers. wearing each other like button downs, like the aftermath of a fight.
she calls me her ignition switch, asks me to give her a nickname too, and it throats me like dust,
the pause, the expectation of this moment to lead to another. she is two chipped teeth, the motor
oil stain on her left cheek a bruise I want to mirror. like heat, her body trapped beneath her body.
I call her Punctuation: sharp and unwomaning. her nose a comma continuing my collarbone
sentences, her eyes aflutter, momentary em-dashes catching the stray filaments of lightning bugs.
I want to be as much of a man as her, singing this grammar of hurt and god. open mouth of
chewed glass and blotted stars. gasoline fists: she turns the key and I feel phantom pains all over.
here, we are not yet unlanguaged by gravity.
loosely around each other, in the backseat, as I tell her we must look biblical–by which I mean
we must look like our fathers. wearing each other like button downs, like the aftermath of a fight.
she calls me her ignition switch, asks me to give her a nickname too, and it throats me like dust,
the pause, the expectation of this moment to lead to another. she is two chipped teeth, the motor
oil stain on her left cheek a bruise I want to mirror. like heat, her body trapped beneath her body.
I call her Punctuation: sharp and unwomaning. her nose a comma continuing my collarbone
sentences, her eyes aflutter, momentary em-dashes catching the stray filaments of lightning bugs.
I want to be as much of a man as her, singing this grammar of hurt and god. open mouth of
chewed glass and blotted stars. gasoline fists: she turns the key and I feel phantom pains all over.
here, we are not yet unlanguaged by gravity.
K. Kannan is the Editor-in-Chief of Blue Flame Review, a literary magazine dedicated to exploring the intersection between science and writing. A 2025 YoungArts Winner, she has been recognized by the Alliance for Young Artists and Writers and Write the World. Her work has been published in Tinderbox Poetry, Diode, and Up the Staircase Quarterly, among other places. Find her on Twitter @lotusmoonwrites.