I. Shame eating +
the sterility of bleach =
A well-balanced breakfast?
I stuff Kit Kat wrappers in with feminine waste
and wipe my hands of chocolate
on too tight pants
II. Scream
and smash
and scream some more
and throw the vase's remains against the door
Icy water surges and deafens
I recoil into a pool of red
How shocking!
That a hand holds this much blood
That our pain could clog a drain
III. DON’T DO IT
Whoops
too late
I POP and SQUEEZE and SCRATCH
watching tiny pricks of blood
bloom across my face
I am bumpy, bitter ugliness
I refuse to recognize her
I dab away tears with salicylic acid
I bury her with clay
IV. I am grown
I am a woman
yet still, I hide out in bathrooms
scarfing down deli meats
wiping at my nose, sloppily
I am a girl
eavesdropping on whispers and giggles
avoiding conference calls and confrontation
drowning out crying babies, sirens wailing
catching a breath
always ashamed
still alone
Julia Hwang is an emerging poet writing from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Her work, which tends to be narrative, women-focused, dreamy and macabre, has been featured in R.K. Leighton and Voice of Eve.