Rae Stone
Saltwater Taffy
My lungs fill
with seawater,
my legs wrapped
in kelp,
hooks carve
gills in my
throat.
Nets web
my hands,
goggles fuse
to my face,
sails become
fins on my
ears and
back.
And in this
transformation
I hear my sisters
call to me,
urging me
to use
my voice
against those
who tossed me
to the mercy
of the sea.
What they couldn’t know
is that the ocean
hides creatures
that feed on
monstrous men;
not even
the gods
would interfere
with the wretches
that lurk
in the deep,
in the dark,
below.
Foreign Object Detected
TW: dysphoria in regards to reproductive organs
blood of the covenant
is thicker than the water
of the womb.
Is that why mine
is foreign to me?
Why my mind rejects
its place inside
my body?
The blood of
my covenants
has been forged
in heartache,
laughter,
and apathy.
This womb
fights my body
to shed more blood.
Cause more pain.
Take up space
where it isn't wanted.
Yes, some will envy
my womb for working
as designed.
But I was not consulted
on this matter.
Gladly I would
give up the source
of my suffering
to those who call me
selfish.
If it is selfish
to want to bask in
the covenants I cultivated
like precious seedlings,
so be it.
If it is wicked
to go against
my biology,
so be it.
Match for a corpse
Tw: death
I feel as though
I am a walking corpse
that hasn’t caught on
that I am already dead.
I could tell you that
I’ve been in this state
of undead since I
was twelve, but
if I’m honest
I could feel
the decay
long before.
Where is my pyre?
My eulogy or memorial
plaque? Does no one else
see I’m all but a ghost
inhabiting a rotting form?
No, they much
prefer to hang spices
around their neck
to keep the stench away
and pretend I am not
trapped in this
festering Alcatraz.
So I wait.
Wait for my time
to shed this
exoskeleton weighing
my soul. Wait for the day
I can light this body
aflame
and rid myself
of this persistent plague.