You could have a big dipper   

spilled salt by Natalia Queenan



bite the inside of my

cheek to taste the blood

run my tongue over

and over the sore

tender as i chew


the doctor said my iron

is too low, dangerous even

though i didn’t ask

so i swallowed a rusty nail


no wait i don’t do that anymore


love in me slides

honey slow through spread

fingers except the worst

parts stick together

drying, flaking, heavy


i bet your mother still

likes me best even if

you hate my guts

do you want to slurp them up?


no wait this is not that kind of poem


i meant to say—

collectively i am no one

assembled parts, not a whole

a hole, maybe, or several

strung together like empty eyes

a fishing net cast into salty red seas



Natalia Queenan tries very hard not to write but does it anyway. She studied neuroscience and English at Barnard college and knows very little. She is @fakenutelIa on Twitter

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