“Roots” by Spencer Ballard

My spine juts just so,
mimics the mountains
who gave me their lungs;
who heralded me above the aspens,
above silly lovers
tittering initials with knives below.
I am a child of the sun and pine,
and sea level does not scare me.

My spine juts just so,
a study of the salty city skyline
where I located my liver;
where the divey met the delicate,
and stubborn love’s
lead smudged silly certainties.
I am a man of moon and Monkshine,
and sea level did not drown me.

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Read Featured Writer Spencer Ballard’s Q&A on our blog, follow him on Instagram (@spencerjballard), and purchase a copy of peculiar: a queer literary journal 2:1 online.