Mattel Daydreams, Coldness be Gentle, Mute, & Posession by Keshia McClantoc
mattel daydreams
dappled light
caught shadows
between plastic fingers
dust soiled grains of hair
and the small, layered
clothing worn to dull shine
painted pastel
slaughtered smiles
here i found childhood
dissected pieces
of girls i couldn’t understand
bodies tight and lithe
hardened vanity shells
my skin is soft
rolling, hanging, sloppy seconds
yet harder to break open
Originally Published in F20
coldness be gentle
in winter, i’m told to breathe
in and out
monotonous living
forced frost patterns
decorating my lungs
i tell them
take the blood in my veins
too warm, too roving
weave this pulsing agony
into tender roots instead
i stand in awe
of those who so often
humbly shed their skin
slip into slow demise
awake, to be revived again
in winter, i say look up
to naked tendrils
reaching for the skies
barren yet beautiful
branches that seek no end
tell me not to breathe
begging away ragged breaths
instead teach me
how to die
i can learn to be alive again
Origenaly Published in Elevated Publishing
mute
she didn’t know it would feel this way
like hot knives slipping down her throat
strings of her vocal chords
ripped out between red lips
wrapping themselves around her legs
cocooned in lost melodies
notes turned to shrieks
that clutched at agonies between her thighs
newly made supple skin, separated
by the blood of her lost moons
spilling red in salty water and foaming white shores
Possession
start with a lost polaroid, toothy crooked grin, high rosy complexion
cheeks a sturdy table under brimming eyes, water and light
spilling over fringed lashes, curtains of childhood madness
next see her beneath your feet, teeth wood stained and water swollen
cracked marble centerpieces capitalizing on raw flesh, eyes
sunken chasms, dripping faucets of lukewarm blood
we think it started first with the babe, wrapped in the claws of her ribs
sheltered embryo to baby boy, expelled from her belly
leaving behind the spirits of the lives she had yet to live
all evidence after tells of the haunting of shallow laid bones,
etched with brazen ghosts, they begged and borrowed
sachets of her skin for their hungry guts
how chem trails rushed them out of red marrow
pulling apart the blankets of her flesh to escape
casting shadows in the house, laying waste on her face
a child with habits of self mutilation grew into a woman, a mother
who picked her skin off, each ghastly string another exorcism
until it came time for them to feast on her carcass
Find Keshia on Twitter, Instagram, Keshia is also the editor of Popsplaining, a website that examines the intersections of pop-culture and society, through articles, reviews, and, essays.
