By: Eliza Siegel

Barnard College, New York City, United States

 

in my empty summer bedroom

dreaming in blue

I cradle my stomach, a hollow cavern

from which I cannot see the sky

seeking pleasure, or something stronger

than pleasure, I switch the fan on,

am hit not

with air but

dust

tonight the house is damp with a desire affixed

to nothing.

I converse with the silence,

scratch my skin as if

to wriggle out,

I long to escape the butter-lamplight that

casts my freckles as frenzied ants

and mottles the bruises

madly dancing

down my calf

coalescing in a peninsular shadow

before scattering again, undone

how can I cry out when my mouth is full of moths?

stifled, giving in to the ecstasy of gnats

cresting my head

I forget I am alone,

cradled by a swarm of ghosts

quiet is unhooking each vertebra from the next

before sinking into bed.