5/23/2018 Poetry By Kendall A. BellSimple math Lexi practices her times tables by the number of knuckle shaped bruises on her forearms: five times five is twenty five, plus two times sitting in the darkest corner of her room counting the number of teardrop stains on the scuffed carpet. one, two, three, four, five. She keeps her voice low, so that it never rises above the television, never interrupts any conversations over cellphones or social media. Lexi wears the same clothes for three days straight, and her teacher calls home to ask if everything is ok—Lexi gets one hard twist of the right arm, two backhands to her small mouth. After the lights are off, Lexi counts coins and dollar bills saved in an old jar that she hides underneath a pile of stuffed animals, subtracts the years left before she can leave on her slender fingers-- eighteen minus eight is ten. One hundred fifteen thousand two hundred heartbeats a day. Twenty times a day holding my breath, waiting for the pain to stop. ![]() Bio: Kendall A. Bell's poetry has been most recently published in Philosophical Idiot and Work to a calm. He was nominated for Sundress Publications' Best of the Net collection in 2007, 2009, 2011, 2012, 2013 and 2015. He is the author of twenty four chapbooks. His next chapbook, "Chasing The Skyline", will be released in June 2018. He is the founder and co-editor of the online journal Chantarelle's Notebook and publisher/editor of Maverick Duck Press. His chapbooks are available through Maverick Duck Press. He lives in Southern New Jersey. Comments are closed.
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