MIGRATION

vanna

Abby Lacey

“I do everything that everybody else does.” – vanna white

 

fever, hot flash, formication,

reminiscing: when I was younger – young.

“there’s a spider up your spine!”

mom’s twitching fingers made arachnid

through sporadic flicking on flesh,

childish shriek, clammy palm, mom’s lilt.

“close your mouth–

children swallow spiders while they sleep.”

today, mom’s lifelines are gentle, kind.

wet, temporal heat amalgamated on my forehead.

sick, bedsick, bodysick.

 

“I’m shy. I’m not outgoing. I’m a homebody. I am on tv, but you know, it’s interesting. how much do I talk on tv?”

 

home-day television static,

peloton pushers, spandex legs

proven products for pesky pounds

shed like layers, canadian winter

bundle for warmth, or just to sweat.

 

“I think people think of me as this elegant person because they always see me dressed up.” 

 

v is an evocative letter.

vie – covet, with fewer syllables.

vein – primal, bloodlust conduit.

vanna – ephemeral, afternoon succubus.

 

“I enjoy getting dressed as a barbie doll.”

 

vanna white is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

brain-blended with a slap-chop,

I ogle. she is blonde.

mom’s thick dark hair

is replicated in rat nests on my head;

carbon copy.

vanna carries the wheel of fortune

on a bugless back,

substitutes spiders in her sleep

for a salad, intestinally-permitted.

elegance is araneidan limbs

and my mother and I have soft,

pudgy arms.

sick, couchsick, bodysick.

 

“my biggest phobia is spiders. when I was in second grade, one of my classmates got bitten. that did it for me.”

 

I am rotting in revulsion,

self-inflicted pick and prod

lump, bump, pinch an inch,

run a mile. idleness oppress,

movement empowerment;

it is empowering to lose,

fit and be fit,

get arms like vanna white.

 

“don’t put on something so tight thinking, ‘oh, I can wear this for four hours.’ don’t do that to yourself.”

 

jiggling legs,

spit out caloric, salted sweat.

I picture vanna limbs

spindled like the spider.

evolutionary camouflage:

benign tarantula becomes black widow
on your back. it’s always on my back.

sick, brainsick, bodysick.

 

“I’m really just a normal person.”

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Phylum Copyright © 2023 by Abby Lacey is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

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