<chiffon>

by Venus Anani

I swallow silk

and allow the feeling of soft to scratch at my windpipe.

I rub sand into my eyes.

and ears.

And nose.

and mouth.

and let new senses cocoon their way out of my body.

I lick chiffon and my throat recoils—

at the sweetness

wishes I would have her rot instead

I am blushing discordance

(I do not exist in any natural order)

I am false actuality

I do not have a name

I am not sure it would suit me

I have spikes in my tongue at every utterance I have stuck my own hands into my

drooling mouth and pulled out new teeth you cannot give me a title that I will not

remember you cannot give me a name that does not call to me

I take joy in my own fragmented conception!

there are pieces of me

stuck

to my insides and I display them as I choose!

I am a darling little collection of insect wings. black spots.

I do not poison! I charm

I am all that eyes can see

and what ears bleed for

Venus Anani is 19 years old and from Montgomery County, Maryland, and Accra, Ghana. They love writing in all forms, especially poetry. Venus uses writing to make sense of their pains and identity.

Illustration by Sam Garufi