COLLECTION: RED & WHITE

poems scattered across the last few months, a red & white thread tying them

PERIOD // KILLING

I dreamt about getting my period and woke up to tell you about it. // The blood was vivid red on my white underwear, color alive, and it stained me and it cleansed me all the same. // But then I thought — maybe it wasn’t about me getting my bleed. Maybe it was me killing something ancient anchored inside of me; something that’s rooted itself deep, refusing to let go. // Maybe I’m finally killing it. Maybe i’m finally getting rid of it. // But it was just a dream about getting my period, and that’s all you need to know.

DISTRACTION

I live by your parameters. // I speak up when you want me to speak and I stay quiet when you look at me that way. // I’m extremely self-aware when I make a mistake and I wonder whether you’ll notice it too. // I try to cover it up and I always choose to hurt myself in the process. // The blood will distract you; it will purify me. // I’ll be more careful next time. I’ll punish myself beforehand next time. // You’ll be satisfied then, right?

IS THIS A ROTTEN FEAST

Am I blind or just refusing the feast of what’s rotting right here? // Is there a pulse in the now that claws at me, begging to be swallowed whole? // Am I scraping at my own skin to outrun this moment, sprinting on cracked knees from the animal truth snarling at my feet? // what’s its name what’s its name what’s its name — // Will it devour me if I look at it, or rot to nothing if I don’t? // Will I starve my soul of this filthy miracle, burn the altar down before I kneel? // Is this how I crawl into my own apocalypse, teeth-first, calling it freedom?

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