Abigail Cain

Abigail Cain (She/He) is a genderqueer lesbian writer from Appalachia. Her work can be found here and there. Her debut novelette, 'Girls are Fish,' is to be released in 2027 through Girl Noise Press. 

Easy read of the poems in the images above:

Minnow

The minnows swim
in my pelvis.

What i mean
is i have ill-bones.

They are my minnows
my ill bones

Sharp rusty mapped things
caged to the minnows of my
pelvis
places downunder {sort-of-foreign-like-a-deep-sea-angler}

They crash into the walls of me &
my orange rust flings

into my gut poisonous shards of shrapnel
& they leave &

i drop my classes so there is time for me to draw
out the time lain in dusty sheets

When speckles andspeckles of my liver
pour from the empty places the minnows left behind.

And i eat again the
smell of rot

And they come again and
take it from me in three bites {thrice times}

I’ve been told before fish can
last a long time without eating.

But I can’t stop thinking
of the lack lack lack

Pretty lack.
Poor minnows.

porn

TW: body gore

my head is on the pillow but my body is on the side of the bed and they use this split to reach into themselves–one with tongue, one with hands–and i think i’m supposed to climax at some point or what is the reason for all of this work but we’re scared of bleeding onto the sheets because it won’t wash out and, well, it isn’t really attractive so my body gets up and leaves for work and i think my head just stays there praying but my mind isn’t really with it i’m just assuming because that's what you’re supposed to do when all you can do is look up but i hope she climaxes at some point and i hope my body feels it even if she has to peddle because biking is her only other option than running and her intestines are splayed all over the pavement with passersby wailing, “you must have lost your head!”