A Self-Directed Vivisection & Other Complex Intentions

oh Omertà I’ve long loved me
a quiet thief: steal me like brambles// a cotton thread// a drop of blood

you darling birdsong// so scared to soon be
no sing// deadquiet

the ivy writhes lonely in the dark
like a lover with nothing—here we are in a room that rarely gets light

who will weep for me// when from every socket// I’ve plucked out the eye?

the song of glass along flesh, I feel rather unraveling—
heartache & small worship! save me from this little prayer of mine:

to steal & plant the moon // in the cradle of my maw//
may it outward seep like gore from throttled plume

Nicholas Alti is an MFA candidate at The University of Alabama from rural Southwest Michigan. He writes with and about trigeminal neuralgia, depression, addiction, and an affinity for strangeness. He’s an assistant editor for fiction and poetry at The Black Warrior Review. Recent/upcoming publications include Dream Pop, Okay Donkey, Yes Poetry, and TERSE., among elsewhere.