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Marianne

Alanie Lacy

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Inspired by the painting “Marianne” by Karl Hubbuch

My mornings are often dark when they needn’t be. I’ve never been a morning person. I sleep through alarms and grumble through breakfast. But today, today is different.

Today, my morning is golden. A rich, orange-toned golden that touches every angle and corner of this room. It’s bright and exactly as it should be. The blinds were drawn but when I woke, my eyes eased open and arms slid the blanket from my body to get up and pull both windows open. My eyes cannot believe the luck they are having and demand my cozy consciousness. I get back in bed, still sleepy but happy to be awake for this moment.

She has more morning energy than I do. Her giddiness matches mine. I wonder if her mornings are always this color. I wonder if I am helping her morning be just a little brighter. I bask in the attention she gives, she basks in the gold light of the window I drew. I could do this every day for the rest of my life. I’m not attached to my dark mornings.

She taunts me, playful. She toys with me, saying she may not come back to bed. Yet, she also doesn’t put a single item of clothing back on, just as she didn’t last night.

If I were an artist, I would paint her. But I am a writer, so I instead cling to the image of her. And wonder. I wonder if one day I will write a poem about this moment. I wonder if it will always be captured in gold or if, with time, this morning will have its own darkness.

I wonder if I will catalog in writing or just in my head, the way she leans back on the mirror, letting the sun hit every part of her body that I get to see two angles of. I wonder if I will write about what an honor it is when a strong butch woman gives you the privilege to watch her bask in the sunlight. I wonder if in the story I will plot, she gets to finally be the main attraction that she deserves to be. If she remains my romanticized love interest worth fighting for, rather than the one expected to do the fighting.

I wonder if she will let me have more mornings like this. I hope that if she doesn’t, she finds someone else she feels safe enough to just exist with. Someone to praise her like she will them. I pray to a God who finally seems to have my back, to let me bask in this goodness, to let it last. I dream of a life where every morning is golden.

I hope she holds onto me. I want to worship her, I want morning after morning to be just like this or even a little different. I want a life with her. I want her to see how good it can be. I want a lifetime of moments that may turn into poetry.

I smile at her, hoping she feels all of this in the way I look at her. I smile and I didn’t think it could be any stronger, any brighter, but it is, as she laughs and climbs back under the blanket with me.

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Alanie Lacy is a recent Mizzou graduate living in Portland, Oregon. She primarily writes creative non-fiction but likes to play around in poetry and fiction from time to time. She can often be found writing about cycles, women’s healthcare, being queer, or simply human connection. When not writing, she is outside somewhere exploring the PNW or cozy on the couch with her two cats and a crochet project.

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