Tynan – YELLOW: /ˈjɛləʊ/ by L. Dacre Tynan
It’s now that I feel joy for the yellow morning.
Recently Published
I no longer harangue every desk nurse at every hospital for a taxonomic breakdown of her bills. I don’t ask for the numbers of the Benadryl, the water cups, the abdominal touches done with gloved hands. I am the most American I’ve ever been—she costs what she costs and I eat it.
It’s now that I feel joy for the yellow morning.
I held the world in perfect stillness within the cold of my hands.
It is raining and the clouds have no order or edge. I want like a disembodied song.
Nominated for Best of the Net
She posted multiple photos on her socials every day, and at least one story a week. But despite all that, even the tabloids couldn’t find her in real life, and they were paying people just to look.