March 11, 2022

by Lydia Buzzard


"You are successful
and I am successful—”
prized dogs sprint for three years
to retire. There is a hospital at the
base of Everest and it has never
been empty. The average American
can name three Olympic gold
medalists. Anatomy is taught to doctors by the
hearts, livers, lungs, cocks, crania
of leather mechanics, homemakers
fucking cops. I picked a pair of
breathers clean, those trees in your chest
that root for rest and saw more cigarette
spots than not; they belonged to a body
that was smirking. My mother files mail for a living
and loves her paper cuts so tenderly they weep. The
man who bred the Goldendoodle now believes
he made a monster. Britney was so undeniably
brilliant in her bedazzled cage
“—and I’m wondering
are you happy?”



Lydia Buzzard is a medical student, untattooed tattoo-enthusiast, and former Google Glasshole. She resides in Madison, WI, with her anxious dog and a sense of permanent, frosty dread.