I. Simplicity 

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by Claire Chenoweth

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I miss before I felt decided,

blank slate,

easy vagueness

the feeling of ambiguity, easy flux.

Shirt against skin with full simplicity.

Now I clatter, I stumble.

There is time and self built up on bones 

I am hesitant to carry.

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II. Skittish

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by Claire Chenoweth

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My sister is upset with me

for shying away from her hug

I don’t know how to tell her

That I can’t bare to be reminded

I exist right now.

To have even kind arms feel

the space I consume

is currently too frightening for words. 

To be more than see-through

cannot be faced.

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III. Ecosystems

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by B Irwin

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Our bodies are not temples,

I will not be invaded as such.

We are ecosystems.

Made of grit, blood, and change.

Packed with multitudes of intricacy,

We love like gushing streams.

Wound like thorned bush.

Hurt by humanity like hunted prey.

As we burn, as we are cut down,

As we are wounded, crippled, abused,

We still grow.

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IV. Prayer

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by Claire Chenoweth

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I pledge to hold myself until 

I warm my own bones.

To breathe greedily.

To reach with wanting.

To touch with joy.

 

I swear to miss myself until

I come back home again.

To lend an artist’s eye

to my own form.

To look only with blessings.

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V. Home

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by Claire Chenoweth

​

My body is a home I am trying to live in.

Some mornings, the water damage is 

overwhelming,

the dust all-encompassing.

I inhale neglect

and end the day in a pile of wallpaper.

 

But on the good days

there’s a pot on the stove,

window boxes,

dirt under unbitten nails.

Dust motes in the sun

as I begin to scrub the floor.