KORA DZBINSKI

EPISODIC, in four

ACT ONE
in which i flirt unabashedly with the
fourth-floor walk-up. in which i
have never been fucked in a library.
in which i read across skin anyway.
in which yesterday’s phone call was
last month. in which someone on
Zoom says “queer temporalities”
and it's all just candy floss. in which
self-care is a bath bomb. in which a
toaster is a bath bomb. in which
Everything is ok if you just take your
meds on time every day for the rest
of your life. in which you are the
rest, if you want it.

ACT TWO
if i keep writing about suicide
my advisor will
(redacted)

ACT THREE
& on the first day of my funeral,
you fill this dripping Mouth – body
of Christ, my body, rotting into flannel
sheets / turned in on itself at the first
sign of calories – such long deaths are
hungry work.

ACT FOUR
your fort and I swap
DNA //
the blanket builds a
Church //
i’ll cry in your basement
with
strangers //

Kora Dzbinski (he/they) is a Mad-queer poet and scholar based in Chicago, where they write about Madness, transness, disability, horror, film, and sex work. They hope you are drinking enough water. Find them on everything as @oatmilkmom.