Hot plastic tube scalded skin / karma for spring lovebugs I pulled apart / mean in my unknowing / Seagrape choker, ugly bug defender / Lonely, deimatic child / who mistook cicada whir / for sun’s rays / beating down on the back of their neck / blistered skin peels / reveals possum-teeth-sharp smile / whispering in a soft bee-hive purr / (Show them your teeth) / Jar of wings and tiny femurs and porous membrane coral on bookshelf / (Show them your teeth) / Dead ringneck curl burned into retina / fixed in a shriveled “C” / Bright orange underbelly mimic / (Show them your teeth) / Shared gluttonous appetite / of polka-dot wasp moth / but human child eats / alphabet soup, Kraft mac & cheese, canned green beans / (Show them your teeth) / Four-eyed, bold spider jumping / daring darling inspires fear and loathing / through double-dating swing jumps and dizzying monkey bar heights / (Show them your teeth) / Self-soothing growl and imaginary friends and 4pm end-of-the-world cataclysm / Meanwhile, / (Show them your teeth, show them your teeth, show them your teeth)
Taxidermy Childhood
Trinity Richardson is a poet raising an evil cat. They are a reader for West Trade Review and the social media manager for The Adroit Journal, and have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Their poems can be found or are forthcoming in Gulf Stream, Moon City Review, Funicular, and more. Outside of writing, their interests include vintage clown dolls, Magic, magic, claw machines, stories with ambiguous endings, and the fly from Breaking Bad.