I’ve heard, we all spend our lives trying to fall in love with our parents, and for me that means it’s a tie between fast cars and fast boys. And I’m trying to slow down, but some days I’m still all wild and yearning for twisting streets and burnt rubber.
Writing by Emily Perkovich
Art by Featured Artist Summer Benton
Turn Left
Turn Left
I’ve heard, we all spend our lives trying to fall in love with our parents, and for me that means it’s a tie between fast cars and fast boys. And I’m trying to slow down, but some days I’m still all wild and yearning for twisting streets and burnt rubber.
/and i rarely write about my father/
I write about these ghosts. I write about these things that were. I write about the things he exorcised to build something else. Because most of what was there before was haunting. Most of what was there we drowned in bottles. And I still have a few exorcisms of my own, but I held hands around it’s throat, and when I couldn’t snuff it out, he tossed the heavier parts in graves.
/and some things stay buried/but some things still hang around/
And I know. Some of that latched on. And I mostly throw it up. I mostly retch it out. I mostly try to drain it. It’s less fire and more sting. It burns when it exits, but the wounds heal fast. After all, the mouth heals quickest.
/but some things, we let hang around/
Somewhere there’s still dirt-roads and shifting gears. Somewhere there’s still classic cars and paint fumes.
/i was born at 120 mph/
and somehow we’ve spent my life wondering why my body can’t keep up with my heart. I was raised drinking diesel and we measured my tread depth in lieu of height. I grew up with frame racks and paint booths as my playground.
/and i wonder if that might explain why i’m all speed and wind-in-hair/why i’ve never learned how to slow down/
When you spend your youth worshipping the dirt and pavement, it’s a lot easier to put in time at the church of blood, sweat, and tears without fear of where that might lead. The speed was what built me. And no one can keep up.
/still/
Some days I wonder what I’ve been racing toward.
About the Author
Emily Perkovich (she/her) is from the Chicago-land area. She is the Editor in Chief of Querencia Press and on the Women in Leadership Advisory Board with Valparaiso University. Her work strives to erase the stigma surrounding trauma victims and their responses. She is a Best of the Net nominee, a SAFTA scholarship recipient, and is previously published with Harness Magazine, Rogue Agent, Coffin Bell Journal, Bullshit Lit, and Anti-Heroin Chic among others. She is the author of the poetry collections Godshots Wanted: Apply Within (Sunday Mornings at the River), The Number 12 Looks Just Like You (Finishing Line Press), baby, sweetheart, honey (Alien Buddha Press), & Manipulate Me, Babe—I Trust You (forthcoming, GutSlut Press 2023) as well as the novella Swallow.
About The Artist
Summer Benton is a 25 year old Chicago based artist and writer with a passion for creating stuff that makes people happy. She loves to draw all the same things she did when she was a kid, like butterflies, and flowers, and her dream wardrobe. Summer’s work is playful to the extreme, whimsical to the max, and color saturated within an inch of its life. Her first picture book, The Fanciest Flower, is set to be published by Harper Collins next year.
Insta/Tiktok: @sumbenton
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