Not My Shirt
Smoke as thick as Beyoncé’s thighs
fills the air, my lungs
How did I get in the kitchen
where I graze on snacks too precious
to be eaten with raw intensity
My cheeks are swollen, pink, sore
My teeth sparkle in the overhead lights
of the bathroom where I stare in the mirror
at bloodshot eyes
lids drooping over wandering irises
A voice clashes with the TV show
emitting from the speakers
in the living room
I sing—something I never do
I dance on dizzy legs to music that can’t be heard
over the chaos
over the anxiety
over the depression
over the maddening, suffocating, turbulence
Is this what dying is
meant to feel like
I am twirling in a circle in the kitchen
but this isn’t my shirt
Lost Identity
I lost my identity near Lanterman's Mill
It was left there
As it rested among the leaves,
dirt, shells, and mud
I tried searching, but it had already vanished
Seeking solace in the hands of a more capable human
I tried to find the piece
of who I am in the clay
under water and sand
I walked the trails
I scaled the steps
Up and down and across and back
over pebbles and decayed branches
I tried to think of where I’d stopped,
captivated by beauty and nature
The memories I captured
in full color ones and zeros
to be read by electronic pings
and displayed even after my life is gone
I scoured the ground where those moments took form
Anything to show where it was lost
This piece of me so absolute
Something I didn't have to prove
It said it all on a 3 by 5 plastic sheet
Summing me up with such precision
Sex: F
Ht: 5-02
Wt: 190
Eyes: BLU
Hair: Red
Organ Donor
Nothing else bares my body so raw
So blatant
So real
I lost it there at Lanterman's Mill
Help me find it?
RW Franklin lives in Northeast Ohio with her incredibly supportive husband. Her writing has appeared in Five:2:One Magazine's #thesideshow and Jenny Magazine. She was awarded runner-up of Lit Youngstown's 2019 Short Short Fiction Contest and she leads the writing club at her local YMCA. She has been very involved in her local writing community and encourages her fellow writers to do the same.