two poems by Morgan Mullings
lover as anaphylaxis shock
i’m not crying, rather
it’s the sting of the ginger you’d muddled for dinner on your fingers after you wiped my tears
i had been crying then
and now, i believe all i can be to you is a wandering lemon peel on the bottom of your shoe as
you march on with the aroma of bitter citrus at every step
you will wonder all day why your eyes itch
i can only hope it stings as bad as i’ve been burning on your stovetop
lover as brick & mortar
you’ve taken to pouring cement down my throat
left my tonsils at a standstill
the gap between my front teeth, the one you swore was my only imperfection, is finally filled
my stomach is once again swollen near to bursting in how you feed me
now you etch in that i’m nothing without you in the wet clay
and declare i am ready for the kiln
display me above your mantle
stone and still
and silent
Morgan Mullings is an interdisciplinary artist and writer living in Maryland with their cat, Frida Calico, and a snake plant named Darius. They were one of two poets chosen to represent the University of Maryland, Baltimore County in the 2019 Baltimore Book Festival’s University Writers' Series. They create a monthly newsletter on Substack called Be Soft, Write Feral, encouraging authentic voice in their subscribers. Their work has been published in High Shelf Press, Burning Jade Magazine, SWWIM and Inkwell Black.