Chafe

I’ll saw my thighs off with a bread knife

Grill them like a steak

And eat them as a congratulations.

I’ll cup the excess blood into my heavy eyes

Lick my lips, taste greasy tears and 

Make a name from my absence.

Maybe next

I’ll carve into my side with a pick 

To cinch

Rip my uterus’ pillow

A nip

Cringe till I fall to my knees and make sick 

So I’m

Beaming, trickling to

Pools on the floor

Soaking my starched, austere pinafore

Till it’s completely and utterly 

White.