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These ink stainsdark as old blood—
well in each curve, fill groove and whorl,
carve stark patterns against my skin.

Words flood from these fresh wounds:
I’ve made them myself, kept scores
in sensitive flesh. Let me ask you,

what choice did I have?

Later, syntax clogged and clotted,
wrecked my clean lines, pulsed
on the page distinct as inkblots.
My Rorschach. Let me ask you,

what choice do you see?

(Bat or butterfly?
Chalice or staff?
The woman in
the wallpaper?)

Sin and salvation.

(In words and in blood
there is both.)

Stacie lives in Mobile, Alabama with her dog. She has a BA in English and will begin a master's in library sciences this fall. This is her first publication.
Current Issue
26 Feb 2024

I can’t say any of this to the man next to me because he is wearing a tie
Language blasts through the malicious intentions and blows them to ash. Language rises triumphant over fangs and claws. Language, in other words, is presented as something more than a medium for communication. Language, regardless of how it is purposed, must be recognized as a weapon.
verb 4 [C] to constantly be at war, spill your blood and drink. to faint and revive yourself. to brag of your scars.
Wednesday: The Body Problem by Margaret Wack 
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