Serra Sanzo

Perfection


I pick at my nails effectively,

efficiently,

or gnaw at the cuticles like an animal

caught in a trap.

Over & over I promise I’ll stop; I won’t

take it too far. Then, I feel the sting of a hangnail

pulled too far, too deep.

The pain tells me I’ve made a mess of things again,

but I was only trying to make it perfect,

like they must have been, at some point.

Sucking at the broken skin, I promise this time

I’ll really stop,

all the while on my other hand

pick pick pick.

& if not my fingers, then my toes.

If not a nail, then a lip.

The acne scab from this morning

is long overdue; eyelash or brow can be plucked

indiscriminately.

Given the proper circumstances, I may tear away

my entire nail—scrape out my eye like sleep dust.

Given the proper circumstances, I may pry open my ribs

just to make sure my heart is still beating.

But I am just trying to be perfect.

I am just trying to understand,

and these scars

running down my fingers are a reminder

that I haven’t found it yet.

But perhaps if I dig

a little deeper,

the answers, like blood, will pool

at my fingertips.

Oh, Comforting Dependence


I’ve always been riddled with worry;

like mistletoe clings to tree limbs

it has weighed me down

and eaten away at my spirit.

At eight years old I thought my mother was dead

if she was five minutes late.

At nine I cried in the corner of my classroom

because my sister must have been kidnapped,

being in the bathroom for as long as she had been.

At ten eleven twelve

I truly believed I had the power to end the world

if I did not flip the light switch

just right,

just right,

just right.

Just in case.

It seemed safer to assume the worst.

Worry,

worry,

worry.

The feeling echoed throughout my being,

rose thorns twisted beyond recognition

around my fragile and delicate bones;

I think it was supposed to say love.

Image ID:

Serra is a dusty writer from the Sonoran desert, though they currently live in the mountains of Northern Arizona. They enjoy listening to the heartbeat of the earth and writing about what the trees have to say.
Find Serra on Twitter and Instagram as @strega_serra