by Kailey Tedesco

after Hilma af Klint

concentrate & look
to see
my watercolor
palette held
in space, else
atop my head;
a halo. snails conquer
cerberusly, else
ceremonially
along the shores
of our star
charts. what
is it we all
carry with us
in our toothbags
from kindergarten
if not the geography
of every shell,
taken home &
then forever
lost? my pony
tail swings dark
down towards
my tailbone as
an omen that nights
will only get
harder & we will
remember them,
even when
the sun stains
us in its
orange. yet
my scribbles
in the dirt
find you
tongue to tongue
with me. i open
like a jawbreaker
to remind you
and everyone else
that my mouth
is full
of more
mouths, each
swallowing
their own words
towards
the surface
of my throat.


KAILEY TEDESCO is the author of She Used to be on a Milk Carton (April Gloaming Publishing) and Lizzie, Speak (White Stag Publishing). She is a senior editor for Luna Luna Magazine, and she currently teaches an ongoing course on the witch in literature at Moravian College. You can find her work featured or forthcoming in Gigantic Sequins, Electric Literature, Black Warrior Review, Fairy Tale Review, Bone Bouquet Journal, and more. For further information, please follow @kaileytedesco.


Featured Image: “De tio största, nr 3 Ynglingaåldern” by Hilma af Klint (1907)