
Defense Curl
i ignore
my peripheral vision
the light walking
over the planes of your face
as you glance at me
some sort of beacon
\
band-aid your foxholes
you are a nesting doll
a lumid talisman
an ugly stone i carried in my pocket and grew fond of
\
i keep returning
to you removing my shoes
a nautilus shell spiraling into blackness on my bed
the unlacing
felt even behind my lids
so delicate
might be the nicest thing anyone has done for me
\
salt crystal die on a shelf figurine sheen
suspend the farm clay the sunset embrace your memoried fur
the lens lost overgrown snarls daytime burnings dished silvers
jellied in reverse one pink toed button
you the seep a hair or two too close not to scale paper thin
hello?
i have just been informed
to stop mourning my life
Ice Bolt, Fire Bomb
the highest piano note
the kind that hurts my teeth
that’s the one
gooseflesh up and down
searching for the kind of kiss
that fits on a finger
not one that will make an egg float
braid me yes plait me
no plate me
don’t make me
okay
i’ll say it
i want to be utterly consumed
Paintings in the Waiting Room
bodies charred to sidewalk
bones alive to air
uplifting
does the woman with her cup of pee see these broken bodies
is she aware of her broken body
of mine
looking at no one but the human plaques in the bleakness of the gray
we are reassembling our bodies
uplifting the char and coating ourselves
covering every inch
a suffocating poultice
not quite right but not a memory
shadowed
we are our own eclipse
covered in ourselves
Hannah Bishop received her MFA in poetry from the University of Massachusetts Amherst. She is originally from New Jersey. She works in a gastroenterology office but usually prefers reading poems to looking at pictures of intestines. Hannah especially enjoys sweets, cartoons, fun facts, and her dog, Teek. Her work has appeared in Noble / Gas Qtrly, Seneca Review, Eye Flash Poetry, ellipses, fautline, and Yes Poetry. She can be found on Instagram and Twitter @bishplease3.