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BURNING HOUSE PRESS

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“in the house of my body” by Mela Blust

20140320_142405
Art by Moriah M. Mylod

 

in the house of my body the light is mostly low

the rooms filled with ghosts performing an orchestra

of sorrow about all the broken glass

 

once, in high school, a girl i had never talked to

taught me how she held her breath until she passed out.

“after the light goes dim, you don’t remember anything.”

 

in the rooms of my body i wander, shuffling papers into

boxes made of songs i can’t always remember the words to

because i held my breath so many times

 

once a man held my balled-up fist in his own and

compared it to the size of the human heart. i noticed

how he held them both and i could breathe

 

in the cathedral of my body undulating rays of light

spell hope on the cracked facade and sometimes

i remember the words to every song

 

 

 

Mela Blust is a Pushcart Prize and three time Best of the Net nominee, and has appeared or is forthcoming in The Bitter Oleander, Rust+Moth, The Nassau Review, The Sierra Nevada Review, South Florida Poetry Journal, Collective Unrest, and many more.

Her debut poetry collection, Skeleton Parade, is available with Apep Publications.

She is Head Publicist and Social Media Manager for Animal Heart Press, and a contributing editor for Barren Magazine.

She can be followed at https://twitter.com/melablust.

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Mirages

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In A Kidney Dish by AMS-H

In A Kidney Dish

Seventeen months and six days ago,
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and presented the results on a stainless steel tray.

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Burn the Bloodstream

How can an odorless, yellow pill bring harm?

            Every time you say no to food, you say yes to thin.

One felt good so she took another,

            Eat clean, look lean.

not knowing two were an overdose.

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Blood Magic

It was her first period for three months. Sitting on the lav with her knickers around her ankles and her knees falling apart, Mihaela saw the new slimness in her bare legs and grimaced. She thought of all the meals she’d missed since the promotion—the rushed breakfasts, the uneaten sandwiches, the insubstantial dinners—and how quickly it had become a matter of finding not the time but the inclination. Now she ate as irregularly and as little as she slept. No wonder her periods had stopped.

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The Last Time It Bled by Emma SzH

The Last Time It Bled

the last time I bled was when I stood on glass

the worst time I bled was when they put the scissors in my vagina

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Denial in Cycles by Mika Hrejsa

Denial in Cycles

girl born altered doomed a beast

the moon dies and

i’m not bleeding like i’m supposed to

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