IT WOULD SEEM
all I ever wanted
was a bodysuit
fern
to bathe in
expensive light
I never knew
the past
could be like this
the day thinning
my hurt
and bathwater
coming out
ink
pained between
my legs
are dying
feathers
WATCH HOW I
cinnamon
bleed
redistribute
my youth
in the mirror
is my
elastane waist
a sectional
of hand
for this
poor light
I hold my body
up
to its stitching
examine the
foreignness
like the edges
of cream
something
to be licked
Stevie Belchak is a graduate of the English MFA for Poets & Writers at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst and currently lives in Astoria, OR. Her creative nonfiction and poetry can be found published in The Hopper, The Quarterless Review, Feelings, Pinwheel Journal, Hobart Pulp, Blush Lit, Dream Pop Press, Third Coast, Metatron's #MicroMeta series, and JetFuel Review--among others. More at www.steviebelchak.com.