Isabella Barricklow


peach pit inside me turning to shrapnel / lizard claw / bone / brother’s machete /
browning leaves of the coca farm / fish at the dock / slick ocean stars gasping.

i learned how to pray as a girl / now my hands / the seashell rosary / forgotten / forged / faithful to the gaping mouths of dead gods / hollow / severed beasts of the universe.

rotting fox’s decay in the tall grass / unburied hum vibrating inside me / in a dream / hands crawl up my throat / guttural / laughing call of motherhood.

rebellion of the blood / warring drumbeat heart / this too is the body’s form of erasure / of holding too tight / the cracked wishbone of my sternum.

the body is tectonic / by which i mean / spreading outward / by which i mean / creator of trenches / of emptinesses / of volcanoes with tongues.

no wonder / we women are so comfortable returning / to the fire / after all / we are / walking collages / blackbird feathers / alligator scales / meteor dust /

cosmic mistake / merging error / cataclysmic accident / walking out into the rain /

arms outstretched / in the beginning / making new graves / poached bodies / spit / snakeskin.


Isabella Barricklow writes and teaches English in Madrid, Spain. She studied English, child development, and poetry at Central Michigan University. Her work appears in Dunes Review, Third Wednesday Magazine, The Slag Review, on, and is upcoming in Cimarron Review. Find her on Instagram: @isabellabarricklow or visit her website:

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