STITCH, Mary Maroste

by Mary Maroste

             In my dreams, it is always quiet— 

                                      I am covered in toothpaste 
             & lavender oil. There is a scratch inside of my nose,
small caterpillars stitched into my palms with blue yarn.


             Buried in a leaf pile filled with crickets,
we crocheted cans of soda together
                                      & decided the last meal we ever ate 
would be served on a red tray with small pockets.

My brother told me I needed to stop dipping my fingers in boiling water
                        & the holes in my ears needed to heal.


             4 or 5 years ago, I lost a wooden dog 
named after my father &
                                       because both of his eyes fell out,
I drenched myself in the scent of cedar & pepper for weeks.


After dinner,
burns on the roof of my mouth bubble,
           turn white—

                      my bones become roots,
become the things I’ve let slip through my fingers,
           & I count my ribs.
Profile photo of barkingsycamores
About barkingsycamores 183 Articles
Barking Sycamores is a literary journal entirely edited and operated by queer neurodivergent people of color. We publish poetry, artwork, short fiction (beginning with Issue 3), creative nonfiction (beginning with Issue 8), and hybrid genre work (beginning with Issue 9) by emerging and established neurodivergent writers as well as essays on neurodiversity and literature and book reviews (beginning with Issue 10).

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.