THREE POEMS by Alyssa Beckitt

/ / Issue 13, Uncategorized


I’ve crawled in the deep
grooves of man’s thumbprint –

My crescent roll smile peaking
up over their canyon begging
to be devoured. Be nice

Mama said, be welcoming –
His hand up my skirt,

he wore me
like a secret trophy

behind the glass case
of his pupils. I scrape

my remains into a velvet abyss
of another plane to exist,

to hide from how he grabbed me
too, how men imprint on all of us
invisible ink –

A finger here, a thumb between
our lips, whole hands

over our whole face. Pull out
the black light and watch

our bodies glow. We are the sea
of fireflies you ignore by day

but when we float in the heavy night air
you grab your mason jar, scoop up our light,
close the lid, and screw it on tight.



I am a cicada husk clinging
crisp & dry & stuck
in his bed,
his heaving chest
on my back –
A silhouette of a body
with meat inside. My pumping
pulse must find a new skin to reside
in. Between finger and thumb
I am weightless. I am the lack
of friction found in still legs,
void of desire I crumble
in his palm, my chirp in the night
chorus is over,
the song of my limbs
a cadence for the coming light –
I am the moment you miss
when you blink. I am silent.
I watch him escape.



No                       can’t you hear
      Me                                           No
           I can hear                                 your brothers in the hall
                              tennis shoes on linoleum
your tongue                         a pillow
            Suffocating                   me                   now
No                   I was waiting                            the water
     stain on your                   ceiling            is a
                              mushroom                             cloud I dive in to
and you’re out                       of me and pulling                my straps
                          up after                                           you tell me
I can go now
                              bare feet on linoleum