Beneath My Fingernails

My fingernails are dark from what is beneath,
their edges dripping like claws, like
slaughter fresh from the battlefield, like
the kind of oil spill that stains the sea. 
My nails are dark, and black, from 
ink and my skin is paper so let me 
overwrite myself like history overwrites 
my people but give me a quill, 
sharpen my teeth into pen nibs, 
my bones I will burn until black and 
from the ash, mix an ink so dark 
and so permanent, 
just let them try 
to make me invisible 
again.  
Avatar for username yejunee

yejunee

FL

18 years old

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    ouroborous

    the snake is hungry 

    so the snake will eat 

    and eat it does, chewing, gnawing, 

    and will you ever notice, little thing, 

    that it is your own tail 

    you are swallowing? 

     

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    abalone

    from salt and foam and scales 

    steal the hearts of stone 

    nacreous shells, dying husks, 

    the honey-sweet flesh that once 

    clung to its bones 

    to die of thirst. 

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  • Poetry

    By yejunee

    eschatology

    meet me at the end of the world 

    the space between firestorms and tsunamis 

    across the acid oceans 

    and here, where the rot 

    has begun to reclaim the cities at last. 

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