unwound
you are woman in your full frontal
rearrange me stranger, so that i am un-deceased and i can snap your little blue
body between my thighs and mold your beet-flesh into my child’s navel.
you were too many whores for the apocalyptic. it is to be risen.
palate-eater, why do you dare chew the meat of my mouth you are
too much inside of my stricken, i am unpinned. i wish i could peel back the sleeve of
your womb. and be one with your crevices
you are a type of persimmon so irrefutably orange it would be for dionysus a pound of
cathedral if you broke like the green brand of rasputin in my paper capsule for fringe swallows in
your air from my spine pocket
there is unlikely but it is too many for restoration.
i am for neanderthal a clean-maggot. it seeks my skin paper and un-lulls. that is a creationist in
escrow. i am unwound.
Turandot Shayegan is a student from Los Angeles, California. She was recently named a 2019-2020 finalist for the LA Youth Poet Laureate. Her poems seek to deconstruct and disrupt traditional notions of grammar and syntax, exposing the raw materiality of language as a form of new expression. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in filling Station and Drunk Monkeys, amongst others.
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