Poetry Exhibits: scrawl


every last one of my nerves
is an exposed tripwire
my hermit crab body
rattling around in a dirty house
air pressing on my skin like sulphur clouds

it’s so expected to fall apart, so I keep going
ugly words peppery in my mouth

don’t let the wires touch the wall
they’ll burn the fucker down

pretty false front, five-alarm flame

– Rae Lemke Sprung

Poets interested in submitting pieces to the St. Jane collection can visit our call for submissions.