Samantha Jones | Issue 16

Crybaby | Poetry

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Samantha Jones

Dear red-rimmed eyes, 
squint shut and let those
crow’s feet grow a little deeper.
Trenched into this delicate 
     skinscape— 
a diversion, canals that carry 
water and salt and fat and proteins 
over the rise of my cheek. 

Lay out a shimmering strip 
reaching for my ear: 
In the morning I’ll try 
to mine it for potash. 



I’m a cryba…