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  • Kelsey Marie Harris

Twelve poems // Kelsey Marie Harris

The square longed to be a sexier polygon

Nonagon, maybe

At some point

I will stop questioning my penmanship

And counting my breath

If I fall in the woods

And no one is there to hear me scream

It is still awkward

And a slight overreaction

The sensation in my arm makes me question

if I had a heroin addiction in a past life

or as a child

my former opiate addiction is a repressed memory

as a child I always knew I’d get vagina cancer

There are days a wad of 2 ply must play stand in for a tampon

We cannot always live up to our full potential

Teach your daughters

There are times we must scratch the crust off our panties

And ride them out another day

In a world where everything is hellbent on throwing off our ph

Teach your daughters

Douching does not rid today of its sorrow

Only tomorrow of its strength

Dawn dish detergent bubble bath



The summer sausage experiment

The illuminati

Climate change

Wearing panties

Not wearing panties

Secondhand panties

Secondhand couch

Public toilets


Seasonal depression




Not shaving

Birth control



Chip crumbs










I haven’t peed today

The bees are dying

Led paint

Morning traffic

Skipping breakfast

Improper hand washing

I wore these pants yesterday

I pulled the short straw

I missed a memo

You forgot to sneeze in your elbow


When I die

Plaster my likeness on t-shirts and wrist bands

Selfie with my casket and #funeralflow

Sign my body like your Jr high year book, HAGS

Brand my initials on your first born

Worship me like God, no Oprah

Sell my dirty panties as keepsakes

Cut off my fingers and string them around your neck

Call out my name when you make love, or shit

Photoshop my face over pictures of your grandparents

Use me to rear your children

Stuff me with potpourri and display me on holidays

Prop me in your garden to scare the crows

Modge podge my skin over dresser drawers and coffee mugs

Add clever quotes

Like if you were me you’d be here by now

Jesus fish is farm raised and filled with mercury

Limit consumption, or have weird babies

This is a fast time of slow moving

Futures can’t grow in radioactive soil

War is raging

War has taken all your glow sticks

Club soda away your intent

Children today are anatomically correct

School halls are lined with labia

Everything looks like a vagina

Unless it looks like a penis

This is a breast in the shape of a poem

It is not perfect

It may even grow cancer one day

For now, appreciate it for its mild suppleness and moderate elasticity

This is a penis in the shape of a poem

I do not hate it

Though it is not without merit

I will not genuflect

This is a vagina in the shape of a poem

Depending on the genre I choose

It may or may not have teeth

Enter at your own risk, never unannounced

I may have peed in your electric outlet

fortunately, it hasn’t worked since the last time I peed in it

As a child, instead of poems, I would write body parts

I’d stash them in every room

If you found yourself nervous in the kitchen

you’d only have to reach around the cereal to make everyone in the room naked

Gender fluid coats the newborn

Gender fluid from the tit

Gender fluid in a Kleenex

Gender fluid tampon

Soaked in vodka

Gender fluid fueling your car

Gender fluid filling your Big Gulp

Gender fluid dripping from roof top

Gender fluid on the floor

A wet sock

Gender fluid in the syringe

Gender fluid on the toilet seat

Gender fluid in your eyes

Gender fluid stains your pillow

Looks like Jesus


Kelsey Marie Harris is a poet in less than the traditional sense. Her work is often experimental, generally offensive, and usually foaming at the mouth. She reps the mid-west. Ask her why she loves Racine. (Editor's note: You need to follow her out on Instagram.)

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