Every 2 Min a Girl Feels Fat and That Girl is Me | Hannah Sheinkman
Hannah Sheinkman hails from Silver Spring, Maryland and is a current BFA Writing student at Pratt Institute. Being a Gemini makes it difficult for her to commit to either label of poet or writer. In her practice, she has become fixated on the body, the fabrication of identity, and occupying space. Her work has been featured in Ubiquitous and Rabid Feminist Zine. She only exists on Twitter @sadtrashqueen.
The Corpse Bride is Shook
I want a dead man to love me. He will yearn for my life. I want to be envied.
I want a dead man to love me and not the other way around. I cannot love a dead man. If I was a girl who loved a dead man that would be sad and sadness is for the frozen food aisle.
If only he can swallow me whole and digest my youth, but I am far too large for his frail bag of skin, so he will take me in pieces. He will eat my flaked off skin from biting my lip or picking my nails away as we make small talk. He would ask about how it feels to salivate or have air fill my lungs. I’ll ask him if decaying is good for weight loss. He will devour it all.
When his bones become ashes, I will sweep them into a vial. I will mix them with water and paint shadows of his memory.