Tuesday, May 1, 2018

"Mimicking Amy" by Levie Marilao - Contest Entry

Mimicking Amy

by Levie Marilao

When I was out of blue gel
and canned sticky spray,
I began using paper glue
for an old bouffant style
looking like an untidy nest
emptied by birds long ago
when I still climbed trees.
The fair glow of my skin
turning dull, yellow-pale,
I smoked a pack each day
burning the itchy bruises
and the red bumpy boils
I wanted to scab then pick
while puffing on the patio.
I got tattoos not for the art
or the edgy-cool ink images
my friends would talk about
in between cold gulps of beer
or glass pipe hits or snorts
of knife-fined pure cocaine
at the house parties I hosted.
Once the pin-pulsated pain
no longer made me cringe,
I bought lancets and razors
and tried their sharp edges
on my consenting thighs
and arms that welcomed
the blades without tremor.
After pulling most of my hairs
on the head, skin, and groin
and my fingernails with pliers,
I stared at the broken mirror;
bald, gaunt, and all wounds,
I begged my mom and dad:
Please make me go to rehab.

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