Chelsea Margaret Bodnar
Dolls like us lose value
when we’re taken from the box, so let the flowers
in your hair take you apart like vines
on old brick houses. What else is there to do?
Hold breath in the bathwater eyes closed tight against
the epsom salts exfoliate your face your lips
use lotion formulated for the circles under eyes, shave legs
until a red thread twists away from you. Polish up your shell,
there’s so much time. The awful clock in parents’ house
that chimes on the half hour winds you up, there’s surplus stock
of everything so when you start to lose you notice slow,
the flowers in your hair they love me not,
oh angel eyes blonde baby queen of cups. Oh
lysistrata, there’s no war let up.
CHELSEA MARGARET BODNAR “is not even faintly like a rose.” Her poetry appears in The Birds We Piled Loosely, Freezeray, Leopardskin & Limes, Menacing Hedge, Sad Girl Review, and Wyvern Lit. Her first chapbook is Basement Gemini (Hyacinth Girl Press).