<1>

my suede hand

warm + gloved

pinning swollen fist on 

either side of ur mandible

+ screaming until the jaw

snaps (so visceral !)

my wet thigh sticky

(unexpected blood)

i tuck my body beneath

stubbed nose cold comfort

watching my verbal tics echo 

in the rugless lobby

my god, 

that’s what summer needs

a cropped linen jacket

just shaped enough

to warm my tits in 

cool summer shade

no pride or shame in making

an old woman cry

… i’m the old woman

<2>

the ridiculousness of lunch glass

or getting chewed out

in the afternoon thicket 

… unthinkable !

vibrant creature,

effervescence of youth

forest green + humbled by

succulence or prosperity,

buccal fat smeared in shiny layers

refracting age or wisdom

<3>

then me

+ the vibes i give: 

                   nervous forgiveness

                   stuffed with love which cannot carry

                   s w a m p

                   incurable lack/deepest ache

                   sun schemes (insofar as to stop the sun

                                     and it’s bullshit)

                   but like,                … friendly ?

yes, 

my hairline continues

to fur itself by fireplace

many extra fingers invited to 

light + curl 

squeezing crunch into velvet

 
before botox is just called youth

let me lick yours like a ruffle, 

like a scream in church !

in my mother’s voice: 

                            CRY OUT A WINDOW ABOUT IT

                            TELL THE MIDNIGHT MAN 

                            REMEMBER THE SLIME RIVER

ah,

of course

her indifference reminds me

to invoke the river of slime

to soak my sins in

the neon absolution

of undone mildew stains

like imposition over injury

<4>

the back of my neck 

is so hairless

(from          the accident)

that when i was nailing my wistfulness

to the new wallpaper

i adhered myself to the baseboard

gathering dust like spring grain

in my historically accurate suit

admiring medieval books

on weddings 

+ informal sutures 

Sara Matson (she/her) is a poet in Chicago and host of the seasonal online reading series Words // Friends. Her poems can be found in Discount Guillotine, Kicking Your Ass, The Chicago Reader and elsewhere. Her favorite color is lime green and you can find her on Instagram @skeletorsmom and Blue Sky @saramatson.bsky.social.