day FOUR HUNDRED and TWENTY FIVE

Tangible

(Previously published)

Tofu fried in coconut oil.

Just a little bit of fat;

fat that belonged on my bones.

Fat you melted off of them

with your icy glare

and your wild, uneven heartbeat.

Fat that took up space;

that had once dared to exist

and had left me

to deal with the winter on my own.

Fat that I needed on my organs.

Fat as a protective barrier

around my heart.

I consumed fat--just a little

bit of fat--

as an insistence on my right

to have form

and tangibility.

I slipped behind you carefully,

in the shadows.

I knew my defiant act of existence

must be a secret.

You found out about the tofu

fried in coconut oil.

But it was too late.

I had already built enough onto myself

to shed you.

- Samantha Clarke


New Words

Those freakish fingers creep through the fourth dimension
to prod at me,
time itself no barrier
to the inflictions you insist upon.

I overturn stones,
like a fool,
and find all the mold and insects
I should have expected.

Of course it was you.

Of course it always was.

I have had to learn new words
to understand what you did to me.

- Samantha Clark

Pits & Bits

I have hair in my pits

And on more of my bits

Is this a problem for you?

Well, I don’t give a shit

Except maybe when

I’m wearing that tank

And I reach up to scratch my nose

At the bank

And you give me that stare

Yeah you, over there

From the edge of your chair

With that flip of your hair

There’s this flap of flesh that dangles

From that very same arm

Ignoring those bits

Are part of my charm

Sure, maybe I’m fooling myself

But is it bothering you?

Tell me, seriously, do you have

Nothing better to do?

Are you even judging me?

Or is that my internal voice?

Maybe you didn’t even notice

My stance, my choice

The good news is

I wasn’t asking you

To tell me who I am

Or tell me what to do

Razors be damned, it’s cold out right now

Guys don’t gotta; neither dost thou

So here’s my last warning: if you’re looking at my pits

And you’re squeamish about female body hair?

Tough shit.

- Beth Dranoff