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too many rooms

Christiana Jasutan

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To my left is a detached limb, the joint like an unscrewed bolt
rusted to the colour of kidneys. I wonder how long it takes

 

for a heart to oxidize, to shrink into a lonely chamber. 
Most days I don’t know which mouth tastes sour, 

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which bone shrieks and which marrow is hollow 
like an apology in a bitten tongue. 

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Some mornings my tissues scream for breakfast, 
my organs spill like dust above eyelashes. 

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I am girl turned rooms turned occupation. 

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Body breaking like sunlight hitting glass, 

skin shredding like katsuobushi. 

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There are always too many rooms in here.
 

Christiana Jasutan (she/her) is a Chinese-Indonesian writer currently pursuing her degree in BA English and Creative Writing at the University of Birmingham. She is the Publication Editor for Writers’ Bloc and the Magazine Editor and Social Media Manager for small leaf press. She explores embodiment, identity, childhood, love, emotions, and metaphors in her work. Chat with Christi on her Twitter @ChristiJasutan, or see more of her work on Instagram @cacaolatte.writes.

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