Poetry by Becca Sheehan

Open Yourself

I’ve lost a lot of blood
left my cells around the world
marking my trail like an animal
on streets of asphalt and fallen bikes
to hands with nails that dig into me
from my palm in the backyard with a knife:
blood sisters
to bathrooms in the early morning
when I’m 13 crying to mom
and forever from then on
to a bathtub in Paris my leg
on a silver razor
and then on train tracks-
gravel, rain, mud, him
I sliced out a piece of my finger in the night
while dreaming
I’ve even dribbled my blood
on you


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