Please, leave nothing but bone.
Shine my remnants down
to porcelain collectibles,
purified by your maw.
How many years have you been hunting me?
I feel you closing in, I feel the fangs’ insertion,
I feel your blue and bedroom eyes
turning to black, the honest color
of your body’s lining.
A total darkness, with the smallest glitter,
a shine of my skin’s reflection.
You rename yourself every decade.
I have a scar for each of your letters,
the blood of those baths
is soon to be soup in our shared mouth.
Drink it, please.
We don’t have much longer
to be doing this dance.
One of us has to go down,
one of us has to stop running,
and with that look in your eyes,
desolate and distant as ever,
you are not about to lose.
My bones have always been nearly yours,
my muscles, my blood, too,
all of me borrowed from your great reservoir.
Poetry, by Angel Rosen.
Angel Rosen (she/her) is a queer poet near Pittsburgh, PA. She is passionate about friendship, drag shows, and doing the work. Angel is the winner of the 2025 Maureen Seaton Poetry Prize, a Best of Net Nom, a dog mom to five ghost dogs (that’s okay), and the elephant in some rooms. She can be found at angelrosen.com or Axiopoeticus.
MONSTER'S iNK 