sonnet from a skeleton
something in the way you pronounce ugly
like it pulls your tongue and wrenches
the crosshair of your jaw, drills bone to dust-like
this is how you offend me--
dismember me from curdling dendrites
burst neon plaque on grey matter
and fill my womb with plaster. make me
a pulse for the still-stuck
void of your hands, flex your lines
to caricature of contortion
and birth a crater for my chin to rest.
bury me in cerulean girlhood--
when i was thirteen and spindly
and your mouth made love to an ocean
Corine Huang is a high school writer from Hong Kong. When she's not writing, she can be found listening to Japanese city pop or obsessing over arthouse films. Her work has been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards and is in or forthcoming from Rust + Moth, Eunoia Review, Rising Phoenix Review, and others. She hopes that you're having a wonderful day!