Savannah Slone is a queer writer who is completing her M.F.A. in the Pacific Northwest. Her poetry and short fiction has appeared in or will soon appear in Heavy Feather Review, Ghost City Press, decomP magazinE, Maudlin House, FIVE:2:ONE, Pidgeonholes, TERSE Journal, and elsewhere. Her debut poetry chapbook, Hearing the Underwater, is forthcoming publication with Finishing Line Press. She serves as the Assistant Poetry Editor at Boston Accent Lit and is a Wigleaf Top 50 Flash Fiction Reader. She enjoys reading, knitting, hiking, and discussing intersectional feminism.
show me the ghosts
you hide in the gaps
between your teeth.
offer me your rusty shovel
let me bury myself
alive in the iridescent
webbing of your flaccid
throat. bile inhalations,
I won’t mind.
for my birthday,
I’d like to peel away your
scarring. gift me your human
suit, my Automaton.
shrink me down to size:
entomb me
in your sliced away umbilical cord.
or did your mother swallow it whole?
be the punch line to my illusion.
sprout flowers from your scalpel
lesion, thank me, thank me very much,
when they’re plucked
from your garden
placed on your headstone.
My poem, “mechanical horti(cult)ure,” explores the complexity that comes with human relationships. Feeding from one another. Wanting to give everything and take everything. The push and pull of interaction, possession, and growth. The healthy, the unhealthy, the grotesque. In writing this piece, I hoped that it might resonate with others as it has with different relationships I’ve existed within, in my own experience.