When she says my name it feels like my skirt flipped up
To check for underwear

Under where my brother hid when I was born,
There are now mousetraps and cricket tape and
He was waiting
To tell my name to the slippery red toes poking off the edge of the bed
To press it to my palm like a pearl pendant on my birthday

He gave me a color, the pale green that comes up from the earth in springtime
Pale green like thick veins almost kissing
Hyperbolically bent under the ripe flesh of my forearm
Pale green like our wilting houseplant and the whites of my eyes

When I say my name it tastes like thick honey
Catching flies on the back of my tongue
Tastes like milk stuck between my teeth
Tastes like picking my skirt up and saying don’t worry
I’m still wearing this
And wishing in my head
That I could wear it like the pearl pendant
So I’d get used to its weight in the hollow of my throat

Even delicate silver would wring my neck
And lick the steel of her boot-toe
And turn my skin green to match the name

Image credit:https://unsplash.com/photos/Km9q4SOvzDw

Born and raised in Bloomington, IN, Chloe is a second-year at UCSB and misses the midwest dearly. They have been writing for about three years, and prefers narrative poetry and (very) short fiction. There is no-one more important to them than their older brother; they have done most of their existence together. Chloe hopes to one day publish a little collection of both of their poems, writings, and illustrations.