Sarah Gawricki
Sarah Gawricki
Nov 18, 2012

doorknob smeared with scraps of pink cartilage
she’d been fighting the concrete again
when she got bored tearing off wings
of nicer girls’ flying friends
she really gave it to the street
stabbed at the wounds in seventh period
with her broken Bic pen, covered in
inerasable scrapes & spite
lips caked in smirking spit
& falling flakes of dried skin
they always tried to wash her hands when she came in
they always tried to talk some sense into her

this bloodlust is unreasonable, can’t you flip through Seventeen
like the other touchy teen queens?
fancy boys who are repulsed by your acne
but wanna smear themselves on those craters anyway
you know you have some tiny breasts
you should practice pointing them

practiced patience with her targets
black spots on her arms
from lying in the same position for hours
just making her mark on the younger ones
when she was done kicking rocks at squawking nests
to test her footwork
nails just stubs of scabs & crust. primal guns
knots of dead cells shoved into a dusty bun
to clear the hair from her eyelids
to better hunt
pus smothered her taste buds
disheveled little runt burned matches on her tongue
to prove her might to boys
prove she’s got some

the day of her menarche she lay in a stupor on the floor
fascinated by her own dead potential
self-affliction was a different war
this was sudden death, a Vietnamese grass attack
paralyzed, cornered into combat
she fingered the blood
drew fairy tales on the ground
next to the beetles she had spray painted red
squeezed the budding swells of her chest
to keep the pain tight inside
her future life leaking iron down her thighs
covering the cross-stitching of debris & plasma
already etched up the sides
flesh circa 1975, post jungle-fight

copper-stained corners on her new Seventeen
tongue pressed tight against cheek
lilac stockings covering the permanent bruises
stretched over permanently kneeling knees
wiped the curls from her flooding eyes so she could see
the pages the counselor suggested she read
about cramps & blossoming sexuality
PB & J.
quavering glossy lips stretched over  snarling teeth      
vagina howling for some fresh meat
shoved some cotton in its mouth
to keep the screams from pouring down
her new lilac stockings
so she could collect herself
to better hunt
point her swollen breasts
  in any direction


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