My body is a factory,
producing polypropylene and other plastics,
leaking toxic fluids;
my breath, a noxious gas,
foul-smelling,
slightly yellow;
my tears, a chemical run-off,
contaminating nearby lakes
and streams
with the delicate, lacy poisons
that seep out of my body
from my eyes, my nose, my pores.
Meanwhile, I walk around
just like a normal person,
no one ever guessing
that what they think is sweat
is the sinister result
of the elaborate refining operations
carried out in secret
behind the orifices
they never peer too closely into,
and what they assume are thoughts
brewing
behind a furrowed brow
are in fact radioactive isotopes
collecting
in ever denser quantities,
building up inside my skull.
One day they’ll wise up
and start carrying Geiger counters.
About the author:
Jennifer Handy explores sexuality, psychological trauma, mentalillness, severed family relationships, and environmental issues through poetry.She is the author of California Burning, an environmental chapbook, andthe chapbook Dirt (forthcoming). Her poetry has been published in Chalkdust, TheClosed Eye Open, Last Stanza Poetry Journal, The Rising PhoenixReview, Wild Roof Journal, and elsewhere.
Part of our Fall/Winter 2024 Issue. New stories, poems, and essays now through December 2024.
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