A Journal

"I'm going to come back to West Virginia when this is over. There's something ancient and deeply-rooted in my soul. I like to think that I have left my ghost up one of those hollows, and I'll never really be able to leave for good until I find it. And I don't want to look for it, because I might find it and have to leave".----Breece D'J Pancake, in a letter to his mother. 

Nikita Hernandez




I’m at that point in life where I keep 
myself occupied with crafts and Netflix. 
I slink through life like the spiders 
in my bathroom—there one second, 
and gone the next as soon 
as you avert your eyes. 
I can’t stay still, restless in loneliness. 
He’s always on my mind. 


Whispering through my days, 
impressions never remain. I write 
letters to the voices in my head, check 
the mailbox every day for responses unsent. 
Walls become great conversationalists,
doors a lover’s embrace.
My fingers twitch through sewing 
projects, stain themselves with permanent 
marker—but nothing lasts forever. 


I hang daydreams from the ceiling 
like those glow in the dark stars 
from childhood. I braid and unbraid 
my hair, always fidgeting. 
He’s gone and I gotta keep him off my mind.


My favorite souvenir is an authentic Venetian mask, glittery black with white outlines and outlandish feathers anchored in place by a rose. This keepsake breeds memories of gelatto, adventure, awkward tan lines, breath-stealing laughter, and one of her best experiences abroad. The mask currently balances atop a wavy blue lava lamp.

Born and raised as a military brat, or “professional gypsy” as her mom likes to say, Nikita Hernandez grew up in the Deep South drinking sweet tea and plucking pecans from her next door neighbor’s tree. She spends her time accumulating books for her future library, daydreaming, and drinking tea. Her poems have appeared in numerous journals and she is anticipating the publication of her first fiction story. Nikita has also been nominated for the 2016 Pushcart Prize.