by Rachael Crosbie
when was the last time you took a bath, was it when you cut through the womb, all bloodied?
didn’t you like it?
did you summon a dream of night swimming—the unconscious moon bloated in waters heavy
and dark that you breathed in—if you won’t see a reflection?
did you sink serrated white teeth in the surface of your skin?
did you market death as the nightmare you’d always have when you took pills to knock yourself
out even though you don’t even have insomnia?
didn’t you like it?
Rachael Crosbie (they/them) is the Editor-in-Chief and Founder of the winnow. Rachael has four poetry chapbooks: self-portrait as poems about bad poetry, swerve, MIXTAPES, and Trick Mirror or Your Computer Screen. You can find them on Twitter @rachaelapoet posting about squishmallows, She-Ra and The Princesses of Power, and their cats.
scissors & spackle 