Submissions open for Beetle Magazine's November Issue

Elastic Moods

By Salonee Gupta

If you pass two fingers 

up the front of my ribs,

you’ll feel me take my breath in


And when you reach it;

a soft sticky pounding 

sweaty like a heart

that’s only learning how to beat


The air between my ribs 

changes like the seasons

sometimes it’s wildflowers;

warm with stories 

sometimes a hurricane

blue- inside of me


But every time-

this sticky lump 

thinks its got it right

you throw me so far away from myself


And so I look for words

they’re all I’ve ever had


And maybe

they’ll bring me back,

to me.

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