Sick

by Emma Stark

i am nauseous 

from the summer heat, 

the metal stench of my own blood,  

and my flesh caught in your teeth. 

i laugh in the face of my reflection, 

her with the eyes of someone in control but i know 

a lamb’s heart torn to shreds. 

my ribcage sits wide open, 

muscle and sinew hanging off the bone. 

i always imagined drowning to be peaceful, like sleep; 

but i am here, drowning,  

and i imagine it would be just as bad if flames licked my bones, 

so i unhinge my jaw & swallow whole.