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

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.

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