i am naked on my bathroom floor midnighting
my times i am putting coins on my eyes. this
is the room where i autopsy my breathing
body every morning i am always looking
for where the failure lives. in this place
i bully my stomach for holding my organs
and my brain for not loving the body
that wombs it. the time is late
and tired but i am making something
like poetry of it i am packing provisions
and choosing not to journey. my sink
testifies to a body trying to change itself
but i am holding myself
up to the light and for once i am
crystal and not a corpse.

About the Author

Olivia Stowell is a graduate student at Villanova University pursuing her Masters in English. Her recent poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in The Albion Review, Ghost City Review, FIVE:2:ONE’s #thesideshow, Madcap Review, Right Hand Pointing, and The Merrimack Review.