I stand on the bathroom scale and
a spider crawls out from under it

and there’s no pain scale for these hurts so
I make a tally in the shower, each fifth strand
of hair criss-crossing little prison windows so
I don’t lose count

and the spider disappears itself back under
the bathroom scale and my witchbelly is
tightened like a snare, my little blue toes
can be seen for miles and whatever
is possessing me—I am trying to starve it

my insides nebulous as teddy bear filling
and the sun through the warped window
goes right through my warped skin

my body is a dumpster behind
a flower shop, my body is edgeless
as an island

 

 

Rebecca Kokitus is a poet residing in the Philadelphia area. She is the author of three poetry collections: Seasonal Affected (APEP Publications), Blue Bucolic (Thirty West Publishing House), and Saccharine (forthcoming from Bone & Ink Press). You can find her on TwitterInstagram, and her website.