let’s talk about demise. you are my nuclear shadow. from the moment you intruded into my space
( EXISTENCE ) has swelled under your oppressive
it’s vile, the way you touch or think to touch
your hands are smeared across my mind
and on my memory of you
let’s talk about willingness. i am willing to visualize you as a burlesque abortion.
you’re an aftertaste i can’t mask with mint
you are a hollow
crinkling in the afterbirth of
what we did
what you did
horror fun time girl
i am husk. if you peel back the fungi shellac, you’ll find a bell. ring it, but only twice.
a light will burst from your chest and you will become a xenomorph
made of iridescent regrets and fractured geodes
who was left in your body?
some are afraid of empty spaces, carved circles, some of sunken cemented bodies
i am a xenomorph too. i exploded from my own chest after i face-fucked myself.
there was no consent when i was born.
don’t, little tongue, try to replicate. somewhere is the monolith, delving deep with sound,
magnetic sounds that drive us closer & closer. shield your mouth before the monolith worms in. the monolith is your genetic structure, aiming to make you a host. make your mouth a host. invading like a colonizer, but the colony is your own blood, boiling in your skin, tearing you apart. little tongue, keep your eyes closed, keep your legs closed, don’t let it mutate, don’t let the monolith replace your mouth.
Ashley Miranda is a latinx poet from Chicago. Her work has been previously featured by the Denver Quarterly, Yes, Poetry, Ghost City Review, Lockjaw Magazine, and Glass Poetry Press. She tweets impulsive poetry and other musings @dustwhispers. You can find out more about her at agirlaloof.com.