Orli Baumgart
tell me where to put the pain.
in a mason jar of now-eaten pineapple jam?
a plastic container returned from new neighbours,
raspberry brownies consumed?
a glass jug, never used? or an empty porcelain
candle, inside which sits an orchestra
of unspoken screaming, their mouths pulled taught;
alight bows on strings.
perhaps at the base of a well,
grime filling the spaces between stones,
my skull pressed against the wall behind me.
if i push hard enough, will its teeth cut
into me like hooks and drag me backwards
until my skin turns grey like storm-turned clouds,
soft particles spread thin like paper,
floured and stretched with a rolling pin
until muscle and bone cannot be lengthened
further and break into silvery pieces
of stone and dough.
how much longer must i sit here before
this body reflects my decomposing surroundings?
i’ll watch as the unrest inside me begins to finally
seep from this rotting flesh, leaking into
some place i am separate from.
Orli is a queer and non-binary Australian, with a wildly diverse array of interests and
hobbies. They especially enjoy reading and writing literature that seeks to articulate abstract
feelings or confronting experiences. They find a sense of comfort in this process of
translating ambiguous and often illness-driven thoughts into something tangible, as if they
become less frightening once on paper. Orli is currently studying nursing and hopes to
continue to explore their love for poetry and other creative writing outside of university.
Hot Pot Magazine 