EᐯEᖇYTᕼIᑎG ᔕᕼOᗯEᖇ

Kate Baker

The hair between my legs grew thick with loss
A reverse forest fire, a maze with no discernible ending.

The ecosystem of my sex became rich and categorical
A jungle of past lovers’ touches,

Both wanted and unwanted
Forced and begged for –

I hide behind a hand stitched coat.

Today I finally shaved.

Watched chunks of human foliage drop into the drain and prayed to a good god
that no man would ever leave me in the thicket

To prepare for a new one I pluck myself clean
I starve myself thin 

I mold myself and crawl around the floor of my apartment
Arachnid and frightening

Until a lover calls and I transform

Beaded and beautiful
Big eyed and innocent
Sensual and charismatic

I cringe and –
Do you think CVS stopped selling my favorite mascara to punish me?

That isn’t poetic but I need it before I see the boy or I risk looking like my father.

My pet wonders why I don’t come around as much and I tell her a lover calls –
She mews about a streetcat at the windowsill.

I think the new boy might be similar.

He rolls from club to after, from bar to dime bag.
I want to taste him so I stick around.

I have a dream he overdoses on my dirty bathroom floor.

My roommate steps over his body to check her makeup in the mirror.

I wake up right on time.

Kate Baker collects New York Mets memorabilia, calico critters, and lives with one large lizard, a misbehaved rabbit, and a very demanding cat. She can be found playing Roblox, or on the speaker at Paul’s Baby Grand– and is currently mastering the art of doing both simultaneously. She has an office job on the Upper East Side, as is expected of her, but writes whenever inspiration strikes. Recently, she was featured in Society19, NewDevRev Magazine, and Eleven & ½. She attended The New School and graduated with a degree in Journalism + Design, and was published for the first time at the age of 15. Writing all of this stuff feels obligatory, so she’d rather return to what matters. She’s a big fan of printed tights and gogo boots. She thinks Mr. and Mrs. Met should be the standard for modern and enduring love. She was once kicked out of Comic Con in front of the cast of Adventure Time. She’s a spider and cockroach apologist. She was described as having a “vaudeville new york accent” and she’s not ashamed of it. She’s just a little too into Game of Thrones. She has mastered the art of the Irish exit but is always a bit more than fashionably late. And lastly, for the love of all things good and holy, please read her poetry.