A NEW POEM
by Rosa Stern Pait
so i sit until there’s a rock in my back between
my shoulder blades and my eyeballs want to drop out
of my face and my mouth tastes like lukewarm garbage.
and flat sprite burns my tongue and clots my teeth
and i take off my glasses over and over and my fingers smell like food from yesterday and my legs knot each other into painful braids and there are twisted angles in my body
and my belly presses sick against
my jeans and my hair smells like old,
sweet tomatoes and my toes are trapped
inside my shoes and
i write a new poem.
rosa stern pait (they/them): always finding a joke. stopped shaving years ago. convinced they would look like gwyneth paltrow if they got their act together. spent an hour screenshotting perfume genius tweets. talks like an elf trying to make a bargain. writes poems about fish? is one? pees frequently. big fan of crying later. ask them about their diva cup. just finished mad men. don't call them rosie.