“Y”
after Carl Phillips
by Carly Olszewski
Several questions past
that of when and where
laid a fork in the road
to say go, but Y
is still for the sturdy
turkey wishbone,
the new tree branch
growing outside
that slowly grows closer
to you, the gazer
out the window, not yet
the view those eyes
will meet. Y,
as in martini glass,
anyone’s fingers, any peace-
ful pair of two, my
arms above your head
reaching up, Y
water floods down, where
the two rivers
join, meeting, and
now, together. Y, not
look as the zipper moves
down the dress, or
as the necklace dangles
down the center of my chest,
but here too, when
the stethoscope counts
your half-living, half-dying
life, where I
sometimes trace along
the contour of your nose, up
across your eyebrows, and
think I decide to stay. Y is all
I keep meaning
to answer.
***
Carly Olszewski is a junior Biology major and pre-medical student at Stanford University. She is the Director of Recruitment and Volunteer Education at the local Veteran’s Hospital, as well as the copy editor for Stanford’s fashion and culture magazine, MINT Magazine. She enjoys running, hiking, and attending music concerts in her free time.
