Bella LoBue | Who (in the underbelly of a day on grass hill)

Bella LoBue is a poet and tree lover based in Richmond, Virginia. She is currently studying English at Virginia Commonwealth University. Her poetry can be, at some point, found in Sky Island Journal and Virginia Literary Review. She is a founder of the basement writer's assembly, Mooncat. She runs.

August 27, 2025

Bella LoBue

Who (in the underbelly of a day on grass hill)

I take off my shirt like skin like skin like I’d spent years of my morning growing layers And your humid friction killed it off and I am raw The bee stings so close to the corner of my eye that if I smile the venom spreads squeezed to the corners of my mothball mouth and the plaster mask of my vaselined face is forever swelled in a grin with no sincerity I had a murderous morning period like I’d mourn the mice I catch and this sunrise ate my amygdala And my stop -go response so the grass dew melts under my rocking palms, pebbles grind the grass-stain and grooves into my love lines knees bent up like staircases to the gods as you thrust greatness upon me in early afternoon so the pollen coats my throat like water inside me and this surgical feeling of having spent so much time looking in the eyes of something bad and the world smoothes circular as I roll my head around, back pressed to dirt Who has the bottle who has the cork?