HeyJaredLucy Siegel
I write fiction, poetry, and philosophical essays about bodies, belief, the fraying of meaning, quiet violences we learn to live inside. I lean on rupture and the refusal of tidy conclusions in favor of honesty and curiosity over certainty.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 10
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- Sep 27, 2026
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- Jul 3, 2026
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existentialist avant la lettre (opens the original)
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I sit on the edge of my bedflicking my hair tie against my wristuntil a red line rises,for the morning entered me like an animal.I imagine that in between time,that narrow interval in the ancient world,when the gods had gone quiet,when man stood alone,too cowardly to trust his own intuition,to know not how to want less.This catapulted meto the bathroom sinkwhere I told the version of mein the mirrorthat I’m enough.I’m a fan of positive affirmationsuntil I’ve said themand have to laughat the pers
grass stains (opens the original)
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The way I’m remembering the color of the rug now is most likely not exactly the way the rug appeared then. A soft chocolate brown, some splashes of charcoal, peppered with stains of the ketchup and blue raspberry slurpees we didn’t clean up.You told me you were in love. I asked how you knew. You said you just did. And you loved his flowy blonde hair. Then we made videos in Photobooth in sepia tone of us throwing up peace signs with our tongues so far out of the side of our mouths that I cannot q
this one (opens the original)
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I have gone over in my head so often when I first felt alive, when every muscle fiber and synapse was both electric and subdued, when my body conspired to show me what living was all about. What getting inside myself amounted to. I cannot remember. The best remembering of firsts I can do is that of music. Wonderwall by Oasis is the first song I ever remember hearing. I was 7. Surely I had heard hundreds of songs before this - but for some reason this is the one that stuck. Perhaps because I hear
apple juice (opens the original)
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Her granddaddy drove taxi cabs in the ‘50s. One of the first black men to do so in Norfolk, Virginia. She often went with him, her father absent, her mother absent in grief and falling ill.“You warm enough?”“Yes, Granddaddy.”“Don’t let your feet touch the floor mat. Cold gets into bone quicker than you think.”So she’d curl up in the front seat, her feet finding contact with her body preferable to that of the passenger seat floor of the black Cadillac. Knees drawn up and close, she’d push the air
prescience doesn’t require supernatural powers (opens the original)
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I want to lie face up in a fieldwith field mice nibbling at the blonde hairson my goose-bump filled arms.I want to scan the sky for a cloud shaped like a teddy bearand another like my best friend’s ass.I want to observe youleaving your fingerprints everywhereso that I may find you againlifetimes from nowlike a hieroglyphic on the wall of an ancient Egyptian cave.And we’ll stare out at the convergence of sky and sea,two blues doing their best to understand the other’s particular shade.We’ll ask e
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