I am okay with being
monstrous, I know
how you view me when I
step out with three heads, I
know the many ways
you think of me.
The day folds
up into a tiny square
which I put into my
middle mouth, underneath its
tongue. Watch the neck twitch.
I am many things but
easy is not one. I try to
hold myself between my
fingers and you know
what happens. Are you
formless as water, like me?
When did you last throw a knife
into a mirror, bare your
teeth with eyes
wide from hunger?
When they first clothed me,
somewhere in the midst of me,
a twig snapped.
And it radiated outward
like a bomb.
Zeke Shomler is currently pursuing a combined MA/MFA at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. His work has appeared in Cordite, Stone Poetry Quarterly, After Happy Hour Review, and elsewhere online.
