I imagined my striptease
from silk a color-blue

clarity; limbs loudly
posed, wing spanned; songbird

story that goes
with the tattoo ink

engraved beneath shoulder.
The limit does not exist.

Walking away
from my chrysalis, I felt

unmoving. Listless life an art
gallery of black-and-white

memory I begged myself
to burn ocean swept.

I begged myself to be bold
as northeastern Octobers,

monarchs in flock
to Mexico, then death.

O, but this July
heart and her crustacean

back! This coal mine throat
prone to collapse, pelvis not

carved for indigo suede!
How happy the dust motes

birthed from my flesh are
to tread fool’s gold.

Does your brain ever get
this loud?

Kait Quinn (she/her) was born with salt in her wounds. She flushes the sting of living by writing poetry. Her work has appeared in Reed Magazine, Watershed Review, Chestnut Review, and elsewhere. She received first place in the League of MN Poets’ 2022 John Calvin Rezmerski Memorial Grand Prize. She loves repetition, coffee shops, New Girl, and vegan breakfast foods. Kait lives in Minneapolis with her partner, their regal cat, and their very polite Aussie mix. Find her at kaitquinn.com.