4th October 2025

Juna Suzuki Hewitt

You treat me like a dog so I say “wan wan”

and then you look at me like I’m crazy ‘cause dogs say “woof” in America.

You got off on the second floor while

I headed to the fourth,

but the elevator’s still stuck

on the third floor.

I’m waiting for you at the bus stop

you already passed, hoping for about

60 seconds of some goddamn truth.

Even just one would tide me over I think.

I hated myself for the first thought I had

while smoking my first cigarette

after the season had ended.

How easy it was for the voice in my head

to say “I can’t wait until

I don’t know her anymore”.

Matter of fact I hated myself for

just about every thought I had about you.

How many times did I get swept up in

your gale force winds? How many times?

Reconciling the person who kissed me on

the cheek about seven months ago with

the person stood before me now.

You’re a cardboard cutout

I brought to bed every night.

I held you, kissed your cheeks back

for seven long months and

now you’re all crinkled

and the photo is peeling off

the cardboard.

The one thing I never thought you’d do

was fix my ability to access anger.

Only you can bring me to that

eighth circle of hell and for that

you’ll always be special.

I’ll always be walking with

my head facing back,

perpetually stuck in this cycle.

But I am not the soothsayer in

this company of two.

I am just a filthy child and

YOU are the witch.

You practice sorcery and

you’ll always be special to me, and

you’ll always be you in the worst way.

The porch light’s stayed on so long the incandescent bulb burnt out and

now I don’t have a job and

now I can’t afford another one.

I hope I never see you again,

yet still when the breeze picks up

I feel my heart skip a beat,

finding myself hoping to catch

your wind under my wings.

Yet still every time,

I’m flung down to the ground.

There’s a wind tunnel where you work

so the stillest of days are still blustery and

I’m always knocked to the ground,

always on the ground, wherever you are.

Juna Suzuki Hewitt is a mixed-Japanese transmasc artist and horticulturist. He works in many mediums including writing, film, photography, fragrance, and sculpture. His art practice incorporates elements of his work as a horticulturist, and vice versa.