We Are All Going to Die

your gut microbiome is the first to go

then your eyelids turn yellow

and your fingers and toes wilt

like the thirsty edges of a purpling rose

all our scars will be exposed

every decision you’ve ever been

too afraid to make

will paralyze in your veins

and when I come to take you away

rigor mortis will break

and you will come unstuck anyways

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Isabella J Aaseng

Raised in an off the grid cabin in the rugged wilderness of Montanas’ Rocky Mountains, Isabella Aaseng learned early how to channel the often unforgiving nature of life & loss through creativity. This was no different when moving to the Pacific Northwest after graduating high school to explore the new freedom of adolescence and big cities. While working in a funeral home, Isabella realized the profound juxtaposition between life and death- where writing became the only way to capture the overwhelming grief she was adopting from people around her having some of the worst days of their lives. For some levity between dead bodies, Isabella also brought baby goats to parties in the Portland metro area- sometimes ending back up at the same doorsteps where death knocked just months before. This intimate experience of carrying death in her arms, while balancing life building, and birthing baby goats, shaped her creative voice and lent itself well to the poetry.