Poetry by Erica Abbott

             Timo Newton-Syms CC



​They Say to Never Meet Your Superheroes


Or something like that. So I slice the guts
from a beast instead. Let my humming-
bird helipad of a heart land on whatever
sweet nectar it can possibly find. Shield
my iron-rich scent from hungry wolves.
Don’t you know they’re not coming for you?
Every sleeper double-agent activation,
triggering these mind tricks-of-turn. I’ve
been asleep for too long. All four natural
elements terrify me because I have no
control over them. This diorama of a
world-shatteringly perfect life is destined
to be thrown against the wall. What did I
ever do to you? Roll over and play dead,
the shine of a knife is taking far too much
of a liking to your exposed neck, darling.
How could you have let this happen? The
shame burns itself to my face and I lick
my wounds with the salt of what might
have saved me.

Erica Abbott (she/her) is a Philadelphia-based poet and writer whose work has previously appeared or is forthcoming in Serotonin, FERAL, Gnashing Teeth, Selcouth Station, Brave Voices Magazine, and other journals. She is the author of Self-Portrait as a Sinking Ship (Toho, 2020), her debut poetry chapbook. She volunteers for Button Poetry and Mad Poets Society. Follow her on Instagram @poetry_erica and on Twitter @erica_abbott.

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