s(k)inful cravings, by Rue Huang

The Garden of Earthly Delights, by Hieronymus Bosch (Netherlands) between 1490 and 1510

s(k)inful cravings 
​
after April Yu

pretty girls have sharp collarbones 
& knives for knees & watch as 
blood blooms from under the line 
of their brastrap. exquisite, they bleed, 
tiny droplets of holy water: curse 
the vampire that’s eating me from 
within but i can’t live without her. 
i’ll tell myself i am ethereal, 
stranger to the carnal. pull 
over, i hear, over music 
playing even after the car crashes. 
it’s summer again, 
but i fall no victim to Chick-fil-A & 
double whopper burgers, 
red & ribs each time. 
i suck the honeydew juice 
from my fingers like a nursing child— 
i am ethereal, i remind myself. i am 
sun-goddess hidden in the swells 
of my dressing gown, the shadows 
under budding breasts, sunlight leaking 
through her thighs. sun goddesses have 
fruit-tasting breath & hollow holes 
under their eyes. sun goddesses drink 
from the moon, not the cup her 
mother placed outside her door & 
begged her to open, open wide. 
tell me: how does the darkness covet? 
no, meet me by the willow tree on 
the next full moon & we can howl 
together, fingers digging into soft 
dirt & negative space 
i held out my skinny elbows, 
my armory of bones & placed 
them where i knew you’d find 
them: you always do. remember this:
the dead do not forgive. & neither 
do the half-alive, the ones scared 
of both now & the afterlife, the 
ones who don’t tell you their 
craving lies elsewhere. 
open wide, i said. i didn’t like how 
you looked at me. i looked at you t
hat way, once. like only you could 
fill the hollows in me made not by 
old age, nor osteoporosis, the kind 
of shadows blooming from torn 
ligaments— 
 
kiss me, find me floating on the
12:01 AM, digital clock numerals
fogged into my brain on fire,
running like a madwoman in the
Vestibule of Hell as
the numbers chase me: [100] [95]
[93] [95] [89] [90]
[89] again.
tell me: is it comforting to know 
they’ll never 
reach [0]?
 
Rue Huang

Rue is a writer from the Mid-Atlantic. When she’s not writing introspective journal entries on bus rides, you can find her consuming her bodyweight in blueberries or running competitively. Her Instagram is @rue.huang.