issue 6
// poetry
the empathy gene
by Jen Bigelow
a man i once called friend stands to greet my husband then turns his back to me and sits down. a man i still do says "they're all bad" when clearly one is worse — just not for him. i'd subpoena them as witness to crimes that victimized me but their praise for the defendant is only damning for my own plea.
what's deadlier, my internal bleeding or their dismissal of it?
how many times do i have to see a man i trust tell me how little they care before i'm legally allowed to stop trusting them? how many good men can i meet before it stops feeling like a miracle?
i married the only man in the world with the power to yell and never use it. i married the only man in the world who isn't angry.
what stage of puberty sheds the empathy gene? do they trade it in for height? or is it thrown into donation bags with grandma's gifted sweaters and last year's shrunken tees,
stuffed between
so mom doesn't see
about the author // Jen Bigelow
| Jen Bigelow is a writer from Las Vegas, who recently left the bustle of the city for Colorado’s nature. She is an artist through and through, a photographer by day, an illustrator in the ever occasional free time, and a storyteller deep in her bones. Her perspective is ultimately led by her relationship with her incredible partner, a community she hopes to cultivate and protect, and her family, both nomadic artists and immigrants. |
Instagram: @j.3.n
Website
wildscape. literary journal 