I have heard You calling in the night
the cheap rusting razor blades
& sucked in stomach
plump with ribs and scar tissue
begging for nourishment, for peace
the pink glittery knockoff
sneakers & the way the frogs
kept her awake
she blamed the noise
at least
the darkness of 4:34 a.m., oranges
& ten-pound eyelids
questions, caffeine
the bikini size on the scratchy plastic tag
not reading the right letter
the way she hated mirrors
the ripping phone charger & wired earbuds
the weight of the rain against cracked glass
an aching head pressed against the cold schoolbus
window, looking at the blur of cars and lives
speeding past hers, wondering what must it feel like
having somewhere to go
metal braces catching on warm cheeks
& the strange familiarity of the copper taste
of blood and the color on her wet fingertips
scratched knees against church pews
blurry eyes with tunnel vision on a crucifixion
of her own
Kat Johnson is a sophomore at SUNY Geneseo. She is majoring in English (creative writing) and minoring in women’s & gender studies. In addition to poetry, she also writes and performs original music.