Natalii Amato

Journal Practice

I am willing to accept Connor left me and I may never understand why.
I am willing to accept Connor left me and I may never understand why.
I am willing to accept Connor left me and I may never understand why.
I wrote that out nine times a day for three months until
I didn’t need to anymore.

Now I need these new statements:

I am willing to accept that this world is beautiful.
I am willing to accept that people are loving creatures.
I am willing to consider that I won’t always be the collateral damage.

Sometimes there will be sunflowers
that grow taller than the cottage roof
and sometimes soon I will see sunlight
and water and neither will look like you.






At the Garden Supply Store

I still love how at the hardware store in between the hammers, screws, and saws
someone erects the spinny stand of veggie seeds
because even in this modern, deliver-it world
we remain human and humans like to grow things.

There was a time when I thought my earthly job
was to grow your loving -
grab your tendrils, place them on the same chicken wire as mine.

I am learning how to be wrong.
I am trying to learn how to love the men-people again.
In the meantime, though, I still love spring.

Some good things don’t get lost.







After the movies I forget to text mom
Got home safe. I sleep until eleven the next day.
So mom thinks I killed myself or something
even though it’s Thanksgiving.
So many people we love died this year.
A year like this teaches you to expect the worst.
So I have to get this on record.
You know the stories you hear about hikers
who get trapped under fallen boulders
& have to either cut off their own arm with their pocket knife
or just wait there to die?
I always thought I’d be one
to just wait there to die.
Give me the least amount of pain
& I’ll call that happiness. Well,
it’s been a motherfucking year
& now I know I would

chew off my own right hand
if I had to. If it meant
more days to put my feet to this ground.

Even when it’s black ice on top and frozen all under.





Tell me

How was I supposed to know about forgiveness?
That going without meant that I’d have to find it later?

Tell me you haven’t ever wanted
to walk through these brush-shit woods
& bring cutters to the barbed wire.
Let the bulls run setsun out the pasture.






Natalli Amato is a poet, fiction writer, and journalist from upstate New York. She is the author of the poetry collections On a Windless Night and Burning Barrel. She has two forthcoming works: Willing: Poems (a full-length collection from Golden Dragonfly Press) and Gone Walking and Other Departures (a chapbook from Illuminated Press).


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