familiar voices crooning their throats cool against coat hangers
eat that romanticized orange and pick the peels apart with knives
until the soap can’t compare; sitting pretty and jealous and high and mighty above the linoleum
you sit alone clutching handfuls of this and that
so you have something to write about, an excuse to be full though your gall shakes in jam jars
keep on waxing nonsensical to hide the disgust and shame,
the inferences that come unbidden and stinging into your eyes like bleeding an attic of dust
and form yourself into something pretty spinning words like wax-work.



Cassandra Verhaegen is a sophomore at the University of Chicago with plans to major in the humanities. She aspires to be a writer/editor of fiction, and her poems and prose have been published in Rib Cage Literary Magazine and Sliced Bread Literary Magazine, both based in Chicago, IL. She was born and raised in Suffern, NY and hopes to release a fiction novel in the near future. You can find more of her work at


Cover photo: Cless (