Poetry by Milena Bee
worrying holes in the mystic night, cracking
my jaw open with the night time
ticking by, towards sweet nothings
and nothing else.
body set upon a threshold that demands
pain for confession
survival hinging on a dependency
unknown. too far
strung out
on topaz lights
unable to see clear into the future
disastrous premonitions become distasteful
and precious in hindsight,
begging for relief upon abyssal sands.
locked up
in the spider’s web, held fast
in the honeycomb, cracked and leaking and sickly sweet to distract
the disease i breed i breathe i
hibernate and pray curse passes through without
taking me with it.
granted clemency,
breeding illness in the pools of stagnation
where water seeps into fresh wounds.
drawing breath uneasy, uneven, a lesser and lesser trifle
of dire circumstances
heaving head over heels,
pitched forward into trembling obscurity
where no one knows your sins.
Milena Bee is a chicane poet and artist who lives in Los Angeles with their geriatric tomcat and a number of houseplants. When they're not writing, they're busy weaving, or even busier trying to read one book a week. They are the co-editor in chief of All Guts No Glory.
Image by Christina Marin.