In Blue Velvet, Consumed
On some level, everyone hopes they’ll live their whole life without finding a dead body. On
some level, we'd like to be on motorcycles in June, riding to the wedding of our favorite
childhood friend. Am I not the will of the executor? Ask instead why I've been out to the storage
unit to put my hands on what we own.
I’m sure I see you on ships: a little book in the hand, a box with a locket, tiny vials inside, sweet
oils to dress my curls. To be sure of a thing, you have to believe in the entirety of It (the moment
you stop trusting math, all numbers lose their brilliance). Perhaps you’ve seen the Gorge or the
American Dream burning. Our valley fields are covered with antiques, scattered copper pans and
indow adornments where cows should walk but no longer do. If I swipe over you, will I stop
believing in It?
Joni Renee is an artist and writer from rural Oregon. Her art has been shared on such diverse stages as The Moth in Portland, the Segerstrom Center for the Performing Arts in Costa Mesa, California, and the MacLaren Youth Correctional Facility in Woodburn in partnership with the Morpheus Youth Project. Her writing explores themes of nature, family, and the body, and has appeared or is forthcoming in Superstition Review, xoJane, and regional journals. Her chapbook, Your Full Real Name, was published in 2017 by Future Prairie Press. She is best known for lush accounts of intimate meals, loss, pastoral youth and discovery, and queerness.