By Jodi Balas
In the bathroom mirror I examine
myself with the intensity of a razor—
think of what he wanted to say but
couldn’t: feral/wild/beast. Laser the hair
from my upper lip, cultivate civility.
After all, I am a lady. I take a file to
the incisors—remove any trace of
animal, any fragment of meat caught
between the gums. The overhead light
is a halo of insults burning with absolution.
How masochistic to scour the skin this
devoutly—in the way of prayer or pleading,
under the scalp of the moon; in oil baths
and rituals of scalding hot showers and
honey, honey how I continue practicing
ways to soften the words so that autoimmune
sounds elysian, raw even; but it’s hard to
forget the way his eyes stilled with fear
as if my skin would make him crawl, go
mad, start foaming at the corners of his
mouth. This body has only turned on itself.
Maybe I’m just animal enough—enough to
sink my teeth into something; to dissect
which wounds are really worth covering.
Jodi Balas is a neurodivergent poet from Northeast Pennsylvania. A lover of words (salacious, being a favorite – it just rolls off the tongue), her poetry has been accepted in Hole in the Head Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, Wild Roof Journal, and elsewhere. Jodi’s poem, “His mouth, mine” was selected as a finalist for the 2023 River Heron Review poetry prize and her poem, “Bone Density” won the 2023 Comstock Review Muriel Craft Bailey Award judged by Danusha Lameris. Jodi is in the process of developing her first Chapbook to market to the poetry world. You could follow her musings on Instagram @jodibalas_
