zoloft

Gut
my soft belly
like a fish
Clean
down the middle
pills pour out like

Marbles
kids play with or

Beans
in a teddy bear
and I’m still scared

Endless Loop

The mind is a television screen
And everyone is blind
There are home movies
On a vicious loop until
The blood orange sun
Rises from behind eyelids
Like two mountains

Is it true that the body
Can be unplugged at night?
It is so like the silence
To convince us
Of its neutrality
Only to amplify
The sound
Of the worm in the orange
Chewing fruit’s flesh

A Wound Shaped Like Sex

Fingers grabbing hip dips, with finger tips tapping swelling abdomen, swelling body, undulating flesh like waves, ripples, small colorful fish swimming up and down a golden bloodstream, shards of light crystallizing, fossilizing – god opening my legs, god opening my stomach, god opening my mouth, for you, with your mouth crevice brushing christ’s open slit that slices open only by the butter knife shaped like your hand on the small of my back, like a wound shaped like sex.

Caitlin Kelly is an MFA candidate at the Pratt Institute. She also earned a bachelor’s degree in Comparative Literature at the American University of Paris. In her writing, she is fond of utilizing liminality, ghosts, and gore to convey a deep love and appreciation for the world. You can find her work in Bad Dog Mag and Same Faces Collective.