Dripping in formaldehyde

after Laura Gilpin

I am the two-headed calf;

the beast with a burden.

Scars and scabs I cannot peel

or wear as smiles or storylines. 

I am hideously on show –

all this human – put me in a museum

and watch my breath fog up the glass;

the alarms will balk at my audacity

to still be here and live.

When I should be in a meadow

beneath glittering starlight, without fear,

without drowning myself in formaldehyde 

before asking if there is anything more I can give.

Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2021


2 thoughts on “Dripping in formaldehyde

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