the body doesn’t consent to its symbolism but i’m in no position to turn down the offer
some days i am my mother but mostly, i am the empty doorframe leading to & from the kitchen of my first apartment
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why i fear camera capture:
flashing lights send my show pony sensibilities into a tizzy & it’s getting harder to swallow them back down
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i write a lot about teeth for someone who has all of theirs i̶ ̶d̶o̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶w̶r̶i̶t̶e̶ ̶a̶s̶ ̶m̶u̶c̶h̶ ̶a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶s̶e̶x̶ ̶a̶n̶y̶m̶o̶r̶e̶;̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶b̶o̶y̶f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶ ̶a̶t̶t̶e̶s̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ i write a lot about writing by which i mean i do very little of either
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i sleep with a gun under my pillow but the gun is actually my right arm the gun-arm warns me my final resting place is as queen bee of the barn
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this poem came out of the kiln this poem came out of thirteen years of higher education this poem came out of a poor girl larping as equestrian this poem came out of forty thousand dollars of debt to an institution who won’t follow me back on twitter (the body doesn’t consent to this, either)
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i trade again not for show not for pony not for honeybee not for twitter personality but for you, dear reader, who wants lines sticky & tart but dying all the same
Rachel Stempel
Rachel Stempel is a queer Ukrainian-Jewish poet and PhD student in English literature at SUNY-Binghamton. They are the author of the chapbooks, BEFORE THE DESIRE TO EAT (Finishing Line Press, 2022) and Dear Abbey (Bottlecap Press, 2022). They in New York with their rabbit, Diego.
