I half expect purple
When I spit,
Or red and blue intertwined
Into a satanic scrunchie,
All my fies gliding and seeping
Down into the other,
Sliding through the under,
Twisting to the glistening beneath,
Where it grows more legs than me
And joins all I’ve ever been afraid of,
My representative,
My demon,
A parasitic pet,
Draining the drains
And wetting the wetter
Parts of what is hidden
Beneath our floorboards
And beneath our minds.
You’d better be ready for me to bite you,
Because my teeth aren’t coming back with me.
Elijah Magdalene Harrison is a writer and multidisciplinary artist who creates poems, zines, artist books, prints, installations, and sound art. They work with themes of queerness, nature, horror, and visibility.