I think about sending you my insides.
Hiked skirt, flash jaw,
teeth ready to warp around
raised waistband, a starving
mouth series, lipped growl.
Slink around my stomach, pelvis,
that slight bump above
gnash exposed inner pink drip.
Try feeding them.
Haven’t eaten in ages.
Sink into esophagus, swallow.
Teasing snap, peeled shirt collar,
warn nipped finger light bleeding.
Clavicle to umbilical ghost,
a feasting, a three A.M. is all I need,
wait for you to ask what I’m wearing.
Bri Gonzalez is a Chicana/e queer poet and an MFA Candidate at the University of Colorado Boulder. They have pieces published in Coffin Bell Journal, Not Deer Magazine, The Raven Review, and Green Ink Poetry. Her favorite pastimes are playing D&D, making oatmeal, and bothering her void cat, Dahlia. Check Bri out at bgwriting.org.
photo by SHVETS production (via pexels)