turn bodies into something like spears each one a new slice, break like cold hard water at cliff bottom crystal-white spews & caresses gentle invitation but more some kind of pull it’s magnetic but less there’s no demand it’s in my head & they don’t know, don’t feel pieces slump into callused hands & ask to be torn to thin strips easy disintegration & fabricate new soul like essence like impulse body moves nimble, headlong & close-mouthed screams stuck in swollen throat clench teeth grind into new chambers left unfurnished
BIO: Sam Frost is a writer living in Los Angeles. She spends her spare time eating bagels and drinking green tea, and she does most of her writing in her phone notes. Find her on Twitter @ sammfrostt
