Octopus vulgaris

640px-It_seems_to_dry_the_octopus

I am Ursula

Ink between my legs

Boil-blurping skin like Kraft cream and plastic

pasta legs, sausage arm carved with every line

of my refusal, which I’ve channeled harmlessly through the tip of a pen

I thought was out of ink, but it is still three-quarters full. Harmless

straight lines, unintelligible black hearts and sharded stars

from far away, it will look like I was strong

enough to try to destroy this body

and escape myself. But

I haven’t. Why is it

that boys have cellos and girls have all curves?

When did everything get so hard? Yesterday

I coursed the piano like the river that jewels the desert in nuptial aqua

Today the notes use my head as a punching bag

and as thick, circling, too dizzy for my ear to track. I hear

nothing

but these voices of people who never

said anything, saying now,

you are the worst

girl in the world. You are curved wrong. Go

walk through a bread slicer, a metro tunnel too dark

to see the difference between the dark outside

and inside, written on your retinas

in harmless ink you could have used

for something more powerful.

640px-Octopus_at_Kelly_Tarlton's

Image captions and credits in order of appearance:

“It seems to dry the octopus in Shimotsui.” By Tatushin – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=14794815

Octopus at Kelly Tarlton’s.” By Pseudopanax at English Wikipedia – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=26297996

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