i think of myself
in images: oranges split down
the middle, pavement
damp with rain. spring fields
are the same as being
under water and fill the hollow
in my gut where a rib used to be.
sometimes, i am a row
of naked bodies on different planes,
reaching out to touch fingertips
that never quite meet.
legs sprawl and flex. pastels
outline the arching back.
each one watches the next,
god and adam refracting.
i carved out my rib
to be rid of the decay inside me,
but it left behind a hole
in my torso that grew.
i get stuck in my throat;
everything below is numb.
all that’s left: a violet
infected with root rot. the church
bathroom. its eerie yellow light.
a ringing of someone
screaming at me.
i stretch for the memory,
but it’s the space between fingertips,
drifting.
…
Eli Mushumanski is a queer writer living on unceded Lkwungen territory. They recently finished their tenure as the City of Victoria’s tenth Youth Poet Laureate. Eli has work published and forthcoming in The Humber Literary Review, Flare: The Flagler Review, and elsewhere.
