Back to Summer 2026

You, Abstracted

Juliana Briggs | Poetry, Summer 2026

What is your bandwidth? My radio

wrinkles sound like dirty bedsheets. In dreams,

your face is dirt-speckled and your teeth

gleam, catching moonlight and passing it on

to me. Never did I consider the chickadees

or the Carolina Wren until I was stood

in blue light while the VCR spit out the tape again

and again like a dollar in a hospital

vending machine. Tender is the body

between rain and sleep. You are a rope swing

hung on a tree branch and I am the promise

of movement, the river beneath the dangling

feet of the playful that you hold. Sometimes,

as I sink my teeth into the day’s fruit, memory

cracks the enamel like an unwanted apple

seed and I am all at once sick in the knees. I knead

my spirit, work it between my aging hands

from the time my morning swats dream-dust

off her hips until the blue evening drains

through the kitchen’s screen door

and the crickets’ song shakes all that swollen fruit

loose from its branches.

______________________________________

Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?

“Non-uniquely, I'm usually not satisfied with expressing emotions or recounting events outright; I never feel as though I've gotten everything out. This poem is pretty representative of the ways I try to bend language and abstract feeling in a kind of game of sensation association in search of the perfect image or metaphor that'll evoke the sentiment I want it to. I'm always trying to reach into a more instinctual space far above the processed thought or feeling.”

Juliana Briggs is a Pittsburgh-based writer, runner, drummer, and lesbian working in trauma and transfusion medicine research. Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and has appeared in Rogue Agent and Superpresent.

Back to Summer 2026

You, Abstracted

Juliana Briggs | Poetry, Summer 2026

What is your bandwidth? My radio

wrinkles sound like dirty bedsheets. In dreams,

your face is dirt-speckled and your teeth

gleam, catching moonlight and passing it on

to me. Never did I consider the chickadees

or the Carolina Wren until I was stood

in blue light while the VCR spit out the tape again

and again like a dollar in a hospital

vending machine. Tender is the body

between rain and sleep. You are a rope swing

hung on a tree branch and I am the promise

of movement, the river beneath the dangling

feet of the playful that you hold. Sometimes,

as I sink my teeth into the day’s fruit, memory

cracks the enamel like an unwanted apple

seed and I am all at once sick in the knees. I knead

my spirit, work it between my aging hands

from the time my morning swats dream-dust

off her hips until the blue evening drains

through the kitchen’s screen door

and the crickets’ song shakes all that swollen fruit

loose from its branches.

______________________________________

Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?

“Non-uniquely, I'm usually not satisfied with expressing emotions or recounting events outright; I never feel as though I've gotten everything out. This poem is pretty representative of the ways I try to bend language and abstract feeling in a kind of game of sensation association in search of the perfect image or metaphor that'll evoke the sentiment I want it to. I'm always trying to reach into a more instinctual space far above the processed thought or feeling.”

Juliana Briggs is a Pittsburgh-based writer, runner, drummer, and lesbian working in trauma and transfusion medicine research. Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and has appeared in Rogue Agent and Superpresent.