Three poems by Rebecca Kokitus


no, I still haven’t let myself heal—
hair tie doubles as tourniquet
collecting the blood of my tiny traumas
unsaturating my fingers

induce frostbite,                      pressure
on the throat of my middle finger
fuck you              in bruise blue
I’ll bleed wherever I want

ask me how it feels to tear
the soles from my feet             then run
I’d say it feels like being born
from myself           feet first

I am molting as we speak,                 I am
always                         and never healing



let me tell you about my
perfect teeth
and the bite scar my
sister still carries

about the time I chipped
my smile on a
beer bottle at age 19

the time I flawed my
only        flawless part for
the sake of some boy-blur

let me tell you about my
old friend’s dog and
how I loved him more
than I loved her

and the way I was patient
with his bloodlust
because even humans
are born                       with canine teeth


rose honey

I bandage myself up, watch
the honeycomb bloat

rose honey overflow, I
read them like a palm reader

these are my lifelines,
proof that I am alive

when he touches me, I
miss being touchstarved

when he’s in me I’m a
swordswallower, I bleed
from the mouth down

searing like shearing,
he shears me, sheepish

bald as a newborn,
he likes me helpless


Rebecca Kokitus is a poet residing in the Philadelphia area. She has had poetry and prose published in various journals and was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2018. Her poetry chapbook, Blue Bucolic is forthcoming from Thirty West Publishing House in 2019. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram at @rxbxcca_anna, and you can read more of her writing on her website:

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