MY LOVER ROLLED MY BODY UP FOR WINTER
i want to be the smallest kind of small
that i can be. i recently learned
about the things a poltergeist can do to the body
and i’m afraid to close my eyes at night,
the lights left on in the hallway so i can imagine
someone is waiting up to keep me safe from the dark.
i want to crush my body up
until it runs red, then clear, make my bones
the sweetest kind of sweet that they can be.
i want to fall asleep to the sound of the rain.
if i think about it in reverse, maybe
you were good for me after all, and it was worth it
to butterfly myself and pin my skin to the crumbling walls.
i want to be a shadow in a box under a microscope,
some dark shape that no one can quite tack in place,
a sliver of light behind the teeth of a lover.
is it too much to ask to fit into a locket?
is it rude to fold my bones in half
and avoid the places where your eyes
burn right through the floor?
most mornings i can’t bring myself
to be someone worth searching for.
am i still waiting or did you knock on the door?
i want to be the size of a keyhole, rusted and quiet.
i want to be a gasp in the head of a needle
stuck in its cushion, a tense touch in the dark.
Mallory Pearson is a 21-year-old painter, jeweller, and poet currently living in Brooklyn, NY. She has a great interest in spirituality, sexuality, and femininity, and spends most of her time quickly getting bored of new hobbies.