LITERATURE
PEEL
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PEEL *
The following poems are selected samples featured in Leah’s debut photopoetry book PEEL.
the kettle overflows past midnight
[act o1]
you have severed me,
pulled me apart, bone by bone
and pieced me back together again
{act 02}
we speak in many voices
slice open my abdomen, so that I may
give myself to you
heart and liver and lungs and all
[act o3]
you say that this is voilent
yet in all sincerity,
so is love
[act 04]
doubt lives in
the shadows of our bedsheets
and second-guessing lies
in the leaves at the bottoms of our cups of tea
[act o5]
and though i wish i didn’t know, the truth is
that even if i give myself to you
for you, that may never be enough
bones and water
‘the type of woman who / needs to sit, in the pond of
her feelings / still /
settle into the mud and / wait / as the falling rains
raise the murky waters / up /
over my head
and if I could rip out
my heart and wring my blood
into your veins
i would
because when we lie
together, we lay
chesttochest
hearts beating
towards each others’
currently untitled - 02
crack your egg on my chest and
watch
as the whites run down my abdomen
and puddle in the pool of my belly
button
as the yolk breaks [smears]
over my
salt-stained skin
and cooks in the valley
between my breasts
currently untitled - 04
enter, the labyrinth of love
wind your liver through mine
we must unlearn together that we
are not owned by anyone other than ourselves
together, we will walk these streets
regathering the scattering shreds in which they left us
we will stitch each other back together
with glittering, colorful thread
together we will learn that the quilted version of a self
is still a lovable one
though we may know what it means
to carry a child in the folds of our skins
we are indefinitely connected by what it means
not to be a woman, quite
i am not sure whether we will ever be able to unlearn
but at the very least, we will unlearn together,
you and i.
currently untitled - 01
i watch through silver-glazed eyes as /
you exhale charcoal-black smoke from your lungs
i watch as you
grasp my throat from behind and slit me open with your mustard-rusted pocket knife
i watch as you look down / dripping
your blood pooled in the bags under my eyes
i wonder whether you locked the door / behind us
locked in your serrated gaze
you drag your scalpel down my stomach
and smile as you watch me bleed
i wonder if it gives you pleasure
currently untitled - 03
i left my memories out for too long and so they grew
spores of mold, and mushrooms too
what would you do
if i asked you to crack open my skull
scoop out my thoughts and
hold them in your hands, like water
slip the rings off my fingers and
slide them onto yours
open your lips as you look towards the sky
collect my honeyed rainwater in the back of your throat
NOTES ON GENDER
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NOTES ON GENDER *
NOTES ON GENDER is a graphic poem written and illustrated by Leah in the winter of 2021, exploring themes of gender and identity. The poem was illustrated using found images.
