Danie Shokoohi is a 23 year old Iranian American writer with a BA in political science from the University of Iowa. Her fiction, poetry, and non-fiction have been previously published in Ink Lit Mag, The Clash (formerly known as That Lit Zine), and Plain China Press. She currently works as a prose reader for The Blueshift Journal and as the writing editor of Half Mystic Press, where she publishes monthly articles on how music intersects with things such as lake mermaids, Iranian activism, and curmudgeonly spaniels.
my skin parts the darkness like a zipper.
I am tired of being the sound of
the unloved sock
slipping from a wash bin. the lullaby
of a longing which turns your stomach.
your mouth is concertina
tearing the softness from my skin.
this is not love. this is
loneliness dripping from your tongue.
this is swallowing the salt of deeper waters.
how many times will you snap
my love like a wishbone?
is it sweeter at the marrow? do
you prefer me spread with autopsy pins?
carve the choicest meats with your scalpel, and
serve them to your friends.
I did not ask you to dismantle the cities inside me.
I had already given you a map.
I spread the ash of the self
I was before I met you, picked out
the chips of bone and tooth like berries.
no more burning. I am
not a phoenix. my feathers won't grow
back. you do not need them for your pillow.
I made you a talisman of my ruins, and
you put it on the wall like art.