Personal Body Horror
by Meg Frances
I have burnt the recommended herbs
I have faced North, counted sheep, bathed in salt
I have ignored them, the spirits, and all their bodiless energy
but it’s that shit you can’t turn off or away from
Pull comforter to jawline, slack as death
turning deeper, I become bedsheet chrysalis
a moon is fuller tonight, throwing silver knives
through each leering eye of a long window
turn away from it, breathe carbon onto shadows
phantoms goose skin through thin pillowcases
clutch the gift of saged quartz to breast as babe
the clear crystal as weapon, as salve, as plea
all the sinners of lazy Sunday sermons dance through me
What brings it on and keeps me up?
The restless specters sent to collect blood debts
the innumerable ghosts of Brooklyn and
all of my dead grandmothers
I stay very still and invite easy rest
Night terrors arrive often as headaches
pushing me and the air out of the room like smoke to a lung
lids lay lax
darkness bleeds
sweat covers all
I slip, I scream
And land, facing the sun
I haven’t killed men
I do no one no harm
I suffer all the same when the day is done
About Meg Frances
Meg Frances is a Texas born writer. Her debut book of poetry and short stories, FFing, was published in 2010 by Desperanto Press. Other works of hers have since been featured on MadSwirl.com, Syzygy, Circus Freaks, Let It Bleed issue #1, Outlook Springs, A Very Feminist Zine I and II by Las Odiosas, The Chachalaca Review, the Love Like Salt Anthology, RaceBaitr, We the Women Collective’s Digital Wake Series, and The Heart Podcast. In 2018, she was selected to participate in a Cave Canem poetry writing workshop. Pre-pandemic, she performed her written works at arts, cultural, and community events all over the DFW Metroplex and Brooklyn. In 2020, like many, she adapted her performances to suit online audiences. She is represented by Erin Clyburn of The Jennifer De Chiara Literary Agency.