The nurse comes by to
touch up the electrodes on my head.
Add chemicals. She says
You clench your teeth pretty often.
Did you know that?
It’s ok. I clench my teeth, too.
My entire body is tense all the time
& I can’t explain why. I’ve been a
cluster of anxiety since the day I was born.… Read more ““EEG” by Rachel Tanner”
And I used to say, I am in awe of the universe,
when my body wanted to dive headfirst
into its vast everythingness. I have said,
Honesty is important to me, when I’ve meant
I need to know what the collateral damage
will be to cater to it. I say, I’ve never found
home in a place, when my body becomes an earthquake
at the thought of armor clinking.… Read more “Poetry from Orooj-e-Zafar’s HEART THE SIZE OF A LOOSENING FIST”
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.… Read more ““the spider” by Rebecca Kokitus”
I can leave my bones at the door
like wet boots. Pinwheel my body
backwards, flip inside out:
I won’t feel pain here.
On good days, I perform magic tricks.
Instead of dove feathers and ribbon
I coax illusions from my fingertips,
casting myself as a smokescreen.
I levitate my bones, stack heart
over center, and my ankle braces
disappear, gone like twisting
a loose tooth.… Read more ““Open Call for Acrobats” by Aryanna Falkner”
When the headaches started again
you offered Ibuprofen and understanding
and drawn shades. When a train wreck
woke me in the middle of the night, you broke
out the Valium and Percocet and told me not to
cry because that makes it worse, then held me
till I fell into an ocean of quiet.… Read more ““Love is a Lesion on Your Brain” by Courtney LeBlanc”